


How to Make Friends Against Their Will

by Messypeaches



Series: Cocaine Driven Maniacs [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Naruto
Genre: Crack Fic, F/M, Kakashi Needs a Hug, Kakashi hasn't., Kakashi needs therapy, M/M, Multi, Naruto's grown up a little, Other, rarepair, the rarest of rarepairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Messypeaches/pseuds/Messypeaches
Summary: Kakashi make a friend.Remy makes.. An acquaintance.The lost Shinobi of the Naruto universe have found a new home and some of them joined Shield. They found the structure comforting.





	How to Make Friends Against Their Will

**Author's Note:**

> This was all written so long ago that you- look you can tell it was so long ago, you know why? Stucky isn't in it. There's barely any mention of Steve or Bucky and Barton's not here at all.
> 
> Also it's HUGE and I'm not doing chapters unless someone asks me too really nicely.

 

Epic Culture Clash:

 

Chapter One.

  
  
  
  


In a funny way, the politics here were easier.

 

Kakashi had time to think about this while he swung from his ankles.

 

For example, the people that had hung him and his... Well, he'd work out what the other man was when he woke  up. Regardless, whoever had hung them here were clearly the bad guys. And not "the bad guys" in the sense that Konoha had always been "the good guys", but bad guys and good guys in a white hat, black hat sort of way he'd learned about on late night television.

 

Ahh well. First things first. The cuffs on his wrists had to go. He needed a new mask. He needed to get his feet free. He needed to consider if the other dangling man was worth the bother...

 

The cuffs took far too long to make a noise against the stones below. What the fuck, was this a well? A silo?

 

Kakashi decided not to care, and made a mental note not to fall. Well, at least not until his arms and legs were free. There was probably an exit down there that they wouldn't expect him to come through.

 

Now if he could just remember what bullshit 'ability' he'd been pretending to have. Super hearing? Had it been  something voice-based, really genjutsu,  so they wouldn't bother with his mask? He swung his arms, got the momentum going a little so it was easier to bend and  hug  his knees to his chest.

 

Ahh, blood rushing back out of his head. Truly, a good thing. 

 

His dangling companion groaned. Kakashi ignored him, mostly because he wasn't sure if that was English or something else. It sounded slightly drunk

 

Miserable over-sized country with it's vast array of accents. That MIGHT have been "where am I" but Kakashi wasn't really sure. 

 

"You're at least fifty feet up," he said,  stretching , grabbing the chain.  He started to hand-over-hand  his way up it. 

 

"We  lose  da fight den, huh?"

  
  


Ah, yes, drunk. "Just try not to vomit, and give me a good reason to get you out too," Kakashi said. Okay, now, he wasn't really locked in, it was just a knot of chain because they didn't think that anyone would try to untie it.   

 

There was silence, and then. "S'dat I don' raise d'alarm when ya try ta get out, y'connais?"

 

"See, now I need a reason not to kill you," Kakashi said, feeling annoyed. He probably should have just left, but it looked like the chain was over a wide beam, and the other man was probably his counterweight.

 

"Good looks an' a charmin' personality, mon ami." It was more of a statement than a joke, and Kakashi found himself agreeing with the last part, at least because really it wasn't that bad an accent and-

 

"Stop that," he said, pressing his forehead to the chain. "I used to take missions with a man who could brain fuck me with hormones, so reel in the pheromones or whatever and tell me why you're useful."

 

"Oh,  _ useful _ ," the man snorted, accent still thick. "Den mebbe da fac' dat I know d'way out. Dat be useful 'nough ta get po' Remy outta here?"

 

"That'll do," Kakashi said with a painfully cheerful sort of smile in his voice. 

 

Hauling the other man up wasn't that hard. Sat him on the beam and started to undo the cuffs.

 

Except they weren't cuffs, they were, more complicated than that. "I need light to get these off," Kakashi mused, voice mild. "Please tell me that if you are a mutant you're not one of those ones that need special equipment to control yourself?"

 

"I got control," the man said. "Got lots of control."

 

"You got a name?"

 

"Le Beau."

 

Kakashi's brain whirled, a moment. Le Beau. He should know that one, right?  "You're the thief."

 

"Mebbe.  If you be missing summat', it weren't me."  (LOL)

 

"You don't know what I'm missing," Kakashi said, dryly. "Here in lovely Iran to loot?"

 

"I don' loot! Pirates loot an' I ain't no pirate."

 

"Mmhmm," Kakashi rubbed the back of his head. No gear...

 

Well, he had the tattoos. Technically he had  _ all  _ his gear.

 

He just, didn't want to use that right now. 

 

Maybe teleportation. That'd work. He could totally claim his mutation was teleportation today. 

 

His fingers knit into a henge. Red hair, long, ponytail long. His mask, someone else's eye. Blue eye. Same facial structure.  "From here, best way out?"

 

"Well, dere's always da vents, but dey be a bit loud. Down at da' bottom o' dis hole, dere's a door dat'll get you fur'der in, first. Dat be de best way from here."

 

"And whatever you're here to steal, that in there too?"

 

"Mebbe." 

 

"And it is?"

 

"You here t' steal summat, mon ami?"

 

"No, I'm here to kill someone."

 

"Well, den since we ain't got but da overlappin' goal o' escape, how 'bout I don tell you notin', an y'don't tell me notin', an' we stay tres bon amis?"

 

"Fair enough." Kakashi got the man's feet free, at least. There, now the chain was dangling properly from the beam, probably close enough to the ground. "Can you get down this with your arms like that?"

 

LeBeau slid down as an answer.

 

Kakashi would have been more impressed if, by the sounds of it, the chain hadn't been ten feet too short. The thud and the curse really detracted from the effect.

 

He slid, and dropped with a lot more grace, partially because he'd used chakra,  though mostly because he'd expected it. "You're a part time X-man, right? Are you going to insist on this being a bloodless withdrawal?"

 

"Y'a full time solider? If I was gonna do dat, den I'd be tryin' t'stop ya killin y'mark, right?"

 

"The night is young."

 

"Can't be later dan, mabbe noon, mon ami."

 

Kakashi mentally penciled "jack ass" onto the mental file he had for Remy LeBeau. Well... Okay, it had been a SHIELD file, so there'd been some notes from operatives that had been in pen, and much harsher than just jackass. He put a hand to the door, tapped it. And then, because no one really expected them to get down, tried the handle.

 

The man with the gun at the door never knew what hit him. The blade of Kakashi's hand hit the neck just right, snapped the nerve.

 

He took the gun, and patted the man down. "Get us to a supply closet and I'll get your cuffs off," he said, giving the  complicated metal a half glance. Bio-kinetic something. Touch based power, and apparently that niggly little mind thing.

 

"Dis'a way." Half over a shoulder.

 

Kakashi took the man's pass card, took a long look at his face. Then set him on fire and followed. Nothing was good for chaos like  an imminent fire alarm. Besides, the other man was half around a corner, and the fire'd take a second to go from chakra-based to fat melting. 

 

It was a storage room, small, lined with linens and restraints.

 

Fuck, complicated hand things. "They were ready for you, weren't they?" Kakashi muttered. "Hold your hands up in the light, there, okay." He ran his fingers over the metal. "These are nice. Shit luck for you, but, nice. I think I'm taking these with me." They wer e, really, da mn clever. 

 

"Y'gonna get me outta dees or y'gonna write dema love ledda?"

 

"Who says I can't do both?" Kakashi mused. Even the lock part was hard to find. Impossible for Remy to even reach, unless the man could reverse his elbows. The file hadn't been clear.

 

Kakashi  _ had  _ READ it, though. Remy LeBeau was one of those loose threads, like Mystique and Logan, that rattled around like the last unpopped corn kernels in the bag . Anyone that didn't stick like glue to the main team was someone Kakashi might run into.

 

He had to use a strand of hair, charged  oh so carefully and to the intense interest of the thief. Okay then, today's fake mutant power was...Screw it. Resigning yourself to one ability was always an intense pain in the ass. The metal clunked, clicked, and loosened. He caught Remy's wrist. "Wait, keep them on," Kakashi said. "You can slide them right off now, right?"

 

"Oui."

 

The loud screaming blare-blare-blare of the fire alarm. 

 

Kakashi pulled a feeble enough looking collar off the wall and slapped it around Remy's neck. "Good, you can play prisoner then," he said, bringing his hands up.

 

Simple illusions. Always made people a little jumpy.

 

Remy was giving him a "look". Probably thought he was the shape shifter. Assassinations were her thing, after all. "Dis ting bedda not be habbin bad'ries in it," he was grumbling, pulling a hand out to tap at the metal. 

 

Kakashi hung his pilfered tag from his neck. "Put your hand back in there. Now, you just tell me left, right, left and follow me."

 

"We go lef oudda d'door, end o'd hall stair well down, wid d' alarm off dey'll be 'vacuating, prolly taking d'ting we here for out. Dis colla bedda not be whad id feel like."

 

Kakashi gave it a closer look. "Depends. Does it feel like a sixth gen jury-rigged Genoshan collar?" He tapped it, and it clicked on.  

 

He wasn't surprised when the man tried to brain him with the cuffs. 

 

Remy was probably surprised when he ended up flat on his back. 

 

"Listen, prisoner, are these the sort of people that let dangerous mutant freaks run around without collars, or are they the sort that would as soon shoot you than let you walk out?" A haul at the collar, got him to his feet. "Now, struggle, curse, and act like I'm dragging you to your death. For all you know it's true." 

 

The curses were very colorful, even if Kakashi could only make out every few words. Kakashi didn't care. He knew what someone waiting for the right moment to strike felt like, after all. Kakashi hardly minded.

 

_ It _  happened at the base of the stairwell.  Kakashi'd learned to pick out Pwp's (People with power) by wardrobe a while ago. Judging by the heels on this woman, she qualified for bad ass, at the least.

 

He opened both eyes under the skin of illusion at the exact same moment she felt him grip his motor functions.

 

_ I hate telepaths, _  he thought, followed by,  _ most people do. Now kill the prisoner and get me out of here, never mind, I'll do it myself.  _

 

And because his eyes were open, he saw it happen. And understood it, and it worked, in the same way a blade worked, simple and elegant and perfect and Remy LeBeau's heart stopped, lungs stopped. It wasn't the worst way to die, but it'd give him a few cruel seconds to realize it, and that that was the cruel part, she'd done that on purpose, Kakashi knew this the same way he knew that he could just reach out and and-

 

What can be done can be undone, what is understood can be repeated.

 

Kakashi blinked. The stairwell was gone, the forest was here, the woman was gone.

 

It was the forest, his forest, the training forest. It was Konoha and it smelled right and the sky was high and bright, it hadn't been called down by....

 

He'd told a lie once. A big one, to someone,  someone  he'd barely even meant to. He'd told her, all pink hair and teacher-what-do-we-do optimism, that a sharigan user couldn't copy a blood line technique.

 

He'd been lying, in a way. You could. There was no limit, after all, to what you could do.

 

_ I must be in a hell of a lot of pain. if I turn around, will there be another campfire? What ghost will I see?  _ He thought, not turning around. Just looking up. He could even feel the paperback in his vest, worn, well loved cardboard.

 

He'd told himself, and others, that it was as easy for a sharigan user to copy a blood line as it was for a man to give birth. You could understand all you wanted, you just didn't have the equipment.

 

But it wasn't like that. You didn't copy bloodlines for the same reason you didn't roll around on nests of serpents while shoving fire ants up your nose. 

 

Because sane people just didn't do that.

 

Well, he'd been wondering if mutations were like bloodlimits. And now he knew.

 

"I wonder if I'll wake up," he asked his past.

  
  


*****

 

The day had started off poorly. Any day that starts with someone clocking you upside the head then hanging you by your ankles isn't really looking up. Remy'd had worse days, yeah, but that didn't make this day better.

 

Getting assistance from your fellow prisoner was a good thing, sure, but having said bastard slap a collar on you took the blush off that meeting. Fucking shape-shifters, thought they'd written the damn book on getting out of captivity and subterfuge and the lot.

 

Then feeling your lungs stop?

 

Poor to shitty.

 

Then he'd been able to breathe, the woman's eyes had gone wide, there'd been a gurgling sound, pink foam had spilled from her lips and she'd fallen down dead. 

 

Remy'd stopped his breathing on purpose for a moment, hoping to avoid the had-to-be-nerve-gas, shackles clattering to the ground when limp weight had hit his shoulder.

 

"D'hell?"

 

The other man was down too, but breathing. He didn't look like a guard anymore. He didn't even look like the other prisoner anymore. He was thinner, taller, with a shock of white hair and a nose bleed. Blood in his eyes, too. 

 

Remy knelt and picked up the gun while tugging at the collar

 

The collar wouldn't come off.

 

Dammit.

 

He gave the man a kick, wondered what the hell had happened while giving him another kick, because, for fuck's sake, he hated these collars. The third kick was on principle,  and then  he shifted so the fourth one would hit ribs.

 

It would serve the bastard right to get left there. Remy stepped over the woman to check the hall.

 

There were more bodies there. Same expression, same frothy pink on their lips. 

 

Lovely. Shape-shifting, white-hair bastard. Was that, telekinetic, then? Maybe like Jean? That thing with the hair and the lock, what had that been? Mind fogging to hide your face, that was usually. That usually didn't work quite right on him.

 

He went farther down the hall. More bodies. Stealing the palm-sized blue shard was as simple as smashing the case open and taking it. Felt almost like cheating. 

 

The security TV's showed. More bodies. Dead bodies in cells, too. 

 

Remy let out a low whistle. 

 

Damn.

 

Oh, wait, the outside camera's showed a few guards coming back in.

 

He tossed the rock hand to hand. The exits were....

 

His conscience managed to get a hand up.

 

Remy sighed. "Dis ain' d'smartest idea," he muttered, back tracking and picking up the white-haired bastard. "Y'lucky I just a moral enough person I don' leave you dere, d'y'here me? Be much easier, just step over y'scrawny ass." At least he was light for his height. Well, he seemed light. Maybe it was just the hair making him look taller.

 

If he could find his clothes, now... Remy trotted along the hall slightly awkwardly, mostly being hopeful. He got lucky, and dropped the bastard on the ground a moment to get back into his body armor, pull on the jacket. It took years to break a jacket in just right, put in all the right little pockets and holes between the lining and the leather. 

 

Now the gem got tucked into a pocket over his heart, the man went back over a shoulder, and the cards they'd missed when they'd emptied his pockets hung between his middle and ring finger. With the collar on, it was more habit than any proper offensive maneuver but it made him feel better. 

 

"Geddin outta here'd be a lot easier wid'out dis stupid ting on too," he said, stepping over another body, accidentally allowing the man's ankle to whack a door frame.  "Y'connais, I c'd just, pow, n' be ri' out de door. B'noo, y' an y'damn mil'tary black ops f'kin bullshi' mean's y'go an y'be clever an now y'jus a pain in m'ass."

 

The man took the abuse quietly.

 

**********

 

Kakashi walked forward, into the trees. The bark felt... Right, under his hands. The air was right, too, not the too dry, sand filled mess, not the strange and stinking air of the city or even the base. It was clean, the way air was supposed to be. No chemical smokes, no mass of humanity.

 

Blood. There was a blood smell. Kakashi didn't turn around. No point. He was out of the fight, and defenseless somewhere, he was either going to wake up, or he wasn't. And if he woke up, there was a good chance that it'd be in a holding cell, strapped down, getting prodded.

 

And the people were good at prodding things here, so fuck 'em all he was taking this mental vacation into the woods, away from the smell of blood and the almost oppressively rising feel of a someone taking aim. 

 

The woods thinned, quickly. Because he was running now, away from, he didn't know.

 

It was cowardly, it galled, and he didn't stop. No reason to. No teammates to go back for anymore, right?

 

The trees were arms, reaching, but the grass of the field was inviting and the sky was only starting to burn at the edges. 

 

A pain in his side, he tripped, foot tangling in a rib cage, down a steep slope that hadn't been there before, into the thick, reeking muck of the mass grave. You could shut your eyes, if you had to, but not your nose and it was pouring into his mouth he twisted, finally looked back to see what had been chasing him.

 

Pain. Bloomed. 

 

Between his eyes, like a stab, like a blunt object into his eyes, like a hammer to his skull. It went down his spine in magma like ferocity, burnt out his bones, boiled his blood, taking over his whole damn world until his chest and stomach were spasming and heaving....

 

"Mon Dieu!" 

 

Bile splashed back onto Kakashi's hands, where they were planted on the floor. He tried to open an eye but it was bright and painful and he heaved again.

 

He was almost at dry heaves, thought he didn't really recall getting there, but from the ache in his chest and ribs and belly he'd guess about ten minutes of being in this position.

 

His head still hurt, badly. The worse it ever had, really, and he'd been hit in the head a lot. Someone was talking in gibberish at him.

 

Kakashi panted, eyes still shut, not moving when the heaves stopped. The ringing in his ears almost drowned out the gibberish but every single sound was still lemon juice in the raw wound of his mind. 

 

A hand on his shoulder meant the owner got an elbow in his face. 

 

Kakashi's balance got throw off by that though, so he didn't block the kick to his ribs properly and fell into his own puke. 

 

Ow. And again, ow. 

 

He caught the third kick, put the other man on his ass before finally looking around.

 

Too bight, too damn bright. Hotel. Gutted. No,, looted, empty. Probably condemned. Probably guarded.  

 

He pushed up off the ground and fell again. Face to the dusty ground, dust in his mouth.

 

His mouth?

 

Kakashi's hand went over his face. 

 

Okay, up, sitting up, tearing his shirt, wrapping it around his head. The other man was just watching now, Kakashi could feel it. He didn't give a damn. There was only one other person, and that man wasn't trying too hard to attack.

 

A longer look. 

 

"The thief," he managed, feeling the makeshift mask absorb the liquid on his chin. 

 

"D' teif," Remy agreed, then added. "D'un dat drug y' scrawny ass oudda dere, b'd way a' considerable risk t'my own pers'nal saf'ty." 

 

Kakashi groaned. "Shutup, fuck, ow." At any minute this'd drop to hangover level pain, right?

 

Haa, he could dream.

 

There was the window. Well, there was where a window should go. He started to stand to look out of it.

 

"Dat's not da best idea dere," Remy said, catching Kakashi's arm before he toppled over.

 

Kakashi gave the man a glare that he hoped convey just how little he cared about the man's opinion, and just how MUCH he wanted it to be quiet. Shrugged the grip off.

 

"Dis place been condemned, see? So dey have d'army hangin roun' ou'side d'doors ta make sure dat d' undesirable's, like, y'know, us, dun 'hang out here and do d'undesirable tings."

 

"Army," Kakashi got up anyway, looked out the window. He braced himself, pursed his lips.

 

Once upon a time, when he'd been able to use his dogs much more often, he'd been able to whistle for them over a five mile area. This wasn't quite that good, but it'd work. 

 

"D'hell! Don' do dat till y'get dis collar off a' me!"

 

Kakashi shrugged. "I'm shit with electronics anyway."

 

"... y'put dis on me an dinna know how t'ged id'off? Y'got dem cuffs off!"

 

"Just sit still and try not to look like an insurgent," Kakashi said, ignoring the fact rage was almost tangible in the room. "And the cuffs weren't electronic, those new collars tend to kill the prisoner if they're tampered with." 

 

"'Mind me t'say tank you fa 'puttin id on me when dey move it, den."

 

"You like to give people reasons to really screw you over, don't you?" Kakashi said, listening to feet tromp up the stairs outside. "I mean, I can barely understand you anyway but when you say things like that, all I hear is you volunteering for the fascinating and short life of a human target." 

 

"Y'like makin a man sorry 'e 'ad da moral fiber na' t'leave y'ass in danger, don' ya?"

 

"How did I get the broken ribs?"

 

"Mebbe y's a bid slippery."

 

Then there were men with guns in the room. Kakashi eyed the barrels a moment, then the men. 

 

Luckily, one of them recognized Kakashi. Kakashi had to take a moment to place him, but...

 

"Carey, get that collar off of him," he jerked his thumb at Remy.

 

"Sir?" A tiny bit hesitant and obviously unwilling to put the gun down.  Kakashi stared at him a moment, until the young man did as he was told. "Yes sir. Sorry, sir."

 

"And you? Put your hands up and act sociable," Kakashi shut his eyes, leaned against the wall. "No one talk unless they have too. That's an order." 

 

He could hear everything just fine. Soldier boy two, whose name he didn't know, kept quiet. Carey was probably pulling out a small tool kit to deal with the collar. In a few seconds it'd snap.

 

Carey was good with that sort of thing. One of the first 'graduates' of the training program Kakashi'd helped Naruto build up. Well, helped Naruto polish a bit at the end there. That close Remy could probably notice the man's double irises, or the fact his mouth was too wide. Maybe not the mouth thing, the kid showed off his molars when he smiled but right now he was probably making that serious expression and...

 

_ Click _ -thud. That was the collar off, hitting the ground. 

 

"He can go," Kakashi said, not moving. 

 

A shuffle. The man left, not another word.

 

Kakashi smiled. "Carey?"

 

"Sir?"

 

He tossed over the blue stone that looked like it'd been chipped off something bigger. "Go find out what the hell that is, and why Remy LeBeau was supposed to take it."

  
  


********** 

 

Somewhere, sometime that night, a Cajun cursed the moon blue.

  
  
  


*********

 

Kakashi was in Washington before they worked out what the blue thing was. Naruto actually made him come into the Triskelion to hear about it.

 

Kakashi stared at the floor. Two years here in this weird world, and it was still hard to look at Naruto.

 

Naruto'd been here almost twelve years. He wasn't a boy anymore. He wasn't just a young man. He'd, grown up, somehow and while it wasn't quite the knife to the gut it had been that first, awful time?

 

Two years, and he still had to tell himself that it was  _ Naruto _ he was looking at, not a damn ghost.

 

"Why was there an interstellar bit of space trash in Iran?" Kakashi asked, examining the wallpaper.

 

"Who cares?" Naruto shrugged. "But it was there, and if there's more of it? It's like a compass!" 

 

It was easier to remember, keep the past right with the future, the more Naruto spoke. He was still a massivefucking dork. 

 

"For an interstellar space ship?"

 

"Yes! A good one!"

 

"And you couldn't tell me this in, say, an email because..."

 

"Because I want the other three pieces, but we think that they've already been acquired by your little Baghdad buddy."

 

"Iran."

 

"I know. Couldn't think of a cute nick name for Iran. Iran imbecile, maybe?."

 

"And what would you DO with these four things, exactly?"

 

"Have fun finding out."

 

"I hate the fact that you outrank me," Kakashi said, after a moment.

 

"Should have killed me when we first met, then. I spent six years telling you i wanted to be the man in the big hat," Naruto said, pulling something out of his desk drawer and tossing it to Kakashi. "Here, picked you up a new volume."

 

Kakashi cursed all the way to the airport, in spite of the fresh porn.

  
  


**********

 

Remy Lebeau, also known as Gambit, was not having a great day.

 

That damn thing had been the last piece, too. And now Shield had it, according to a source who was as accurate as you could expect the cousin of a friend of the sister of the wife of the janitor who maybe overheard something possibly. 

 

Seriously. What the fuck? And what had been UP with that white haired, light fingered bastard? Another super solider, some sort of hybrid mutant? It was almost tempting to track down Logan and try to convince him that Weapon X was involved but the only way that could end well was if... Well, there was no way it could end well. either he'd end up right, and that'd be all kinds of bad, or Logan'd realize he'd been lied to and the man took things so damn personal. 

 

The object lay, glistening, on the cheap hotel sheets. Remy was splurging a little. If by splurge you meant breaking into a cheap hotel quietly via the window and setting a mental alarm clock for sunrise. 

 

It was a Wednesday, he'd be fine.

 

Anyway, the object. It was, maybe the size of his outstretched hand. When it was completed, it'd be a slightly misshapen, probably sparky flattened disc. Ripply blue. Really if the thing'd stay one color it'd look like tacky jewelry. For a three year old. But even sitting on the sheet, it was quietly reddening in what Remy assumed was shame at it's failure. Possibly rage at the white haired bastard.

 

He gave it a prod. Stupid, stupid thing. The whole situation was shit, now. It'd been shit when he'd tracked that last piece down, it'd gotten shittier when he'd lost it, and now it was utter crap because there was a decent chance that he was back on some horrible little 'person of interest' list in some horrible little government building, and someone would at some point want to know what the hell he needed this piece of shit for.

 

That, he felt, was a private matter. So private he didn't actually KNOW, which honestly he didn't like all that much but hey, it was what he DID, right?

 

Prod, hate, prod, hate.

 

It wasn't a very complicated mental exercise.

 

Fine. He'd call the guy, then, and see about handing over what he HAD. Then see about getting that last piece back.

 

Maybe kicking that scrawny white haired bastard's ass in the process. Yeah. That'd be a nice bonus, blow the smart-ass up.

 

******

 

Sometimes, rarely, the universe looks down on you and smiles.

 

And other days it  _ goes _ down on you, and smiles after with jizz on its chin.

 

Metaphorically. 

 

Kakashi was having trouble believing his luck.

 

A month spent looking really damn hard for the guy, and the man just... Was THERE. 

 

Kakashi wasn't even wearing an illusion. It was an airport. He put on a medical mask and a white plastic eye patch and waved his id's at the guards and meandered through at airports, and if he didn't do that he was sneaking in anyway.

 

_ Not just a blow job. A good one. With humming and a finger or three and maybe an extra girl there for nipple duty.... _  Kakashi thought, staring at the back of Remy Lebeau's head. He recognized the head. And the shitty jacket.

 

It certainly wasn't as nice as  _ Kakashi's _  jacket.

 

Kakashi stuck his hands in his pockets, fished out his porn and tucked his nose in. Sidled to the check in counter while the arrogant bastard slide past security. "Hi, miss?" he pulled out the right I.D. without looking. "I'd like to change my seats. Did you check that man in?"

 

"Yes sir," she started. 

 

Kakashi grinned, eye a perfect crescent. "Excellent!"

 

****

 

"Cherie, n'dat d'planes started c'ye ge me a'nudder?" Remy asked, half sideways in his seat and waving an empty plastic cup at the stewardess. It wasn't quite a full flight, he had the space next to him to fill as well. A nice, novel change from his last airplane ride yesterday. Ten hours in the cargo hold hoping that his slap-dash translation had been right and the damn thing would stay pressurized.

 

"Oh, I think he's had enough," Kakashi murmured, sidling around the drink cart and pushing Remy' leg out of his way before sitting.  "You can keep going. We won't need much for a while. Isn't that right, le Diable Blanc?" He smiled. "I've met demons. They're harder to catch than you."

 

Remy didn't talk, trying to decide, quickly, if this was 'we caught you now we drag you to jail' talk, 'we caught you now you die' talk or 'tell us what we want to know' talk. 

 

Probably a combination of all three. Strangers who bossed around soldiers and didn't even ping on anyone's radar generally didn't fall under the classification of 'nice person', unless there was a 'not a very' in front of it.

 

... if he just blew a hole in the plane he'd be really dead. So would most of the passengers. And maybe the white haired bastard. 

 

"Y'keep usin m'pet names, and I got nothin d'call y back," he said, smiling instead because it was easy, so easy to be charming. Even if it didn't work, it was better than begging. He had a reputation, after all. "Y'got one or y'onna dem number's dey like?"

 

"Hmm? I have a number. Zero-niner-seven-two-zero. I have a name, too," Kakashi leaned back, relaxing. "Hatake."

 

That was a weird ass name. Probably fake. Once he got out of this, he'd try to look it up anyway.

 

"Das unique, mon ami."

 

"Is that even English?"

 

"S' N'awlens patois wid some ex'ra french."

 

"I've been to France. Even the drunken retards there can manage their T's," Kakashi said. He pushed the little button and the seat clunked back half an inch.

 

"F'ck ya," he replied, watching Kakashi kick at the foot rest until it creeped down. There was the vague feeling that the conversation was heading in the wrong direction. This wasn't usually how it went. Usually there was at least one threat by now, maybe a gun in your ribs.  "I can spit out m' t's iffen I need to, Hatake."

 

Kakashi made a slightly muted noise that for no real reason made Remy's eye twitch. It wasn't impressed, or dismissive just. Uncaring. Almost a 'meh'.

 

"S'fuck ya," Remy repeated. He was not sulking. He wasn't. He was plotting his escape, yes.

 

"Well, even monkeys can tie shoes."

 

"I ain' no monkey, ya'croc f'kin numba' man, " Remy'd never made a plastic dixie cup sizzle like that before, jaw tight behind the smile.

 

"Anyone with as dire a track record as yours has no call to insult my love life," Kakashi said. "That croc has never betrayed me."

 

He could, Remy thought, shove the cup into the man's lap and detonate it. Blow his dick clean off, let him bleed out through those big arteries in the thighs. "Y'gonna die fa' dat one, cher, soon's dis plane's on da 'groun',"

 

"You'll try to blow me up, I'm sure," Kakashi said. He patted his chest, and fished out the glittering blue shard. "You might even think you've succeded. Everyone else will. You'll wonder, though, then you'll pat the body down, and you'll take this. You'll combine it with the other pieces, I'm sure. Even though you wouldn't bet your life that this is the same piece I took from you. And then, you'll deliver it." He put the thing away carefully, and pulled out some headphones. "I missed what the in-flight movie's supposed to be, did you catch it?"

 

Remy stared. "Y'tink y'can tell me dat, an' den I'll wan dat damn bi'da glass?"

 

"Yes, I think you do. Because, you're thinking, can they really copy that? If they could, then why would your buyer need the original? He could just a get a competent thief to steal a duplicate once production started. And Production would start. Do you even know what this is? No, of course you don't."

 

"Be alien. Pard a' da cockpid," Remy said. What? He'd tried to figure it out since Iran.

 

"Keep spitting out those T's."

 

"Tit headed twat f'king shit eatin' son of a bitch."

 

Kakashi snorted. "Not bad."

 

"An y'gonna say no drink's fa' me? Whada bou' da pissroom, den?"

 

"You can go drain your lizard," Kakashi said, chuckling. "And you can even reach into the overhead and get the other pieces out of your carry on. In fact, let me do that for you," he stood up, putting a knee on the arm rest between them. 

 

"Mabbe I checked dah in," Remy said. He could punch the man in the groin from here, dammit. it didn't look like he was wearing a cup, just black pants, and a complicated belt buckle.

 

A really complicated belt buckle. The sort that probably had concealed stuff in it, almost clock work. In fact, if Remy looked, he could just about work out what you'd have to push too make it...

 

"If you're going to stick your nose in my belt buckle, you could at least open your mouth while you're down there."

 

There was an audible CLICK as Remy's teeth snapped together jaw tightening. His eyes were probably glowing, it was a damn miracle that no one else on the plane was panicking yet.

 

More than a miracle. "Y'a mind reada?" Telepath, maybe, keeping everyone calm? He'd killed all those people, before.

 

"Not even a little," Kakashi said. "But I have a fabulous crotch, it's no surprise that you're enthralled."

 

"I mean da no one on dis damn plane's inna panic!" Remy squawked. Or he would have, if he'd been the sort to squawk.  

 

Kakashi sat down, holding the box with the rest of the device and unwrapping it. "Toilet paper? You wrapped it in toilet paper?"

 

Remy didn't answer. He had a deck of cards out now and was shuffling it hand to hand. He might survive a plane crash into the sea. You never knew, might be worth it to try. "Yputting it together now?"

 

"Yep."

 

"Ain' concerned abou' whad id'll do?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Nod even if-" Remy started.

 

Kakashi cut him off. "From here I can shove a five inch blade between the fourth and fifth ribs, angle it up, and cut your heart more or less in half. You'll have maybe a second to feel yourself die. In that second, I assume you could detonate the chair you're in as a sort of petty attempt to take me with you but, and here's the good part, I'd all ready be at the other side of the plane. You'd get sucked out over the ocean, and might even feel your ears rupture right as you die. You certainly won't recall falling, or hitting the water." 

 

"Y' be da worse' single servin' friend I eva..." 

Kakashi grinned. "I love that movie."

 

"Yer jus' sidden' dere workin' ou' ways da kill me?"

 

"You're a thief, reputation for running from fights if you can. You're thinking of how to steal this back and get the hell out of here. What do you think I do for a living, based on what I think about then?"

 

"Bas'dard's a career now den?" 

 

"I have a masters degree," Kakashi murmured. "Working on my graduate courses, only a few unit's short. Interested in being my thesis?"

 

The pieces clicked, glowed, pulsed slowly. 

 

Kakashi held it out. "Wanna touch it?"

 

"Non..."

 

"Coward."

 

"Havin a damn bit o commen sense d'not a coward make," Remy snapped.

 

"It's not hurting me," Kakashi said, wriggling his fingers. "Kinda tingles."

 

"Y'a freak, mon ami."

 

"Says the mutie."

 

Remy paused in his shuffling, looked at the top card. Four of clubs? Well, there were worse cards. "An y'saying y' ain't?"

 

"Nope, I'm different," Kakashi said. "Genetically, socially, rank wise. I.Q. too, I imagine."

 

The four of clubs sizzled a little and Remy found himself almost growling through his teeth. 

 

Kakashi laughed gently and put the object into the pouch on the back of the seat in front of him. "You can order your drink now, if you want. I'll flag down the stewardess. She's going to be able to really see us again, though, so you might want to stop making your card's sizzle."

 

"D'hell are you?"

 

"I'm a Jounin. It's Genin, Chunnin, Special Jounin, Jounin, Anbu, then Kage, try to keep it straight," Kakashi said. "Hatake Kakashi, Jounin, Zero-niner-seven-two-zero. Have fun Googleing that, you might find a blog."

 

"Y'go a blog?" Remy had to pause in his shuffling to stare. 

 

"I write erotica when I'm bored," Katake said. "I'm bored a lot, and I can post from my phone. I may write some now if you're just going to be dull at me."

 

"Dull?"

 

"You keep repeating things back at me."

 

Remy's mouth opened, snapped shut again. "Jounin's d'middle?"

 

"It's a little bit, exponential. Power of, say, five as you move along but yes, Jounin's the middle. Special Jounin's almost tied, really it just means there's a specialty involved." 

 

"Y'tellin me an awful lot."

 

"Ahh, so you have a brain and you can use it," Kakashi gave Remy's knee a pat in a way that oozed smarm. "I'm not going to kill you."

 

"But y'seem t'think y'can." 

 

"Oh, I'm good enough to  _ kill _ you. That's not hard. I'm good enough not too, though and I bet you haven't met as many people that good."

 

"Met enough."

 

"Ah, yes well. I've never been a professional guina pig, but torture I'm familiar with. I suppose the difference is that when you're being tortured for information, they still think you're sentient being." 

 

"Givin' or receivin?"

 

" _ And _ . Not 'or'.  _ And, _ " Kakashi was pulling out a phone now, one with a keyboard. Clickclick, fast, text starting to fill up the screen. 

 

Remy stared at Kakashi for almost a full two minutes before raising an arm. "Cherie? Member dat drink y'offered back a while ago? Gonna need a few mo o'does."

  
  


  The stewardess was more than happy to oblige, even if her face showed that she was puzzled that she had failed to notice the very odd looking gentlemen on her plane. 

 

 "Bring two." kakashi said without looking up. 

 

 Click. Click. Click. 

 

 Remy nursed down the first sip, then downed it and got a second. Then a third. It was halfway through the fourth that he leaned over and looked at the tiny glowing screen. It wasn't as it Kakashi was trying to hide it. 

 

 Remy read it and stared. Read it again. There was more when he got to the bottom. It wasn't just porn. He'd expected porn. Hell, five drinks he'd HOPED for porn. But he hadn't been ready to find not only porn, but porn with a thinly disguised him in it.

 

"Dark eyed boy?!?!" he squawked, rising from the seat. Almost levitating, really, what was left of his drink hitting some businessmen in the back of their heads.

 

 "Hmm?" Kakashi looked over, fingers still moving. 

 

Click. Click. Click. People were staring.

 

 But Remy couldn't stop now. "An fuck you! My  dick be more den a han'ful!!!" he heard himself yelling, almost as If from a distance. "-n you ain' packing no pyt'on!!!" 

 

Kakashi's fingers finally slowed. "Maybe not a Burmese," he said after a moment. "but I do have a nice cock, and with pants as tight as yours are unless you're tucking and taping, I think I'm right. Going to prove me wrong?" 

 

"Sir! Please sit down!" A stewardess was hissing as politely as possible, reaching over Kakashi's head to tap Remy on the arm. Remy stared at her then at Kakashi.

 

 Kakashi was typing again. If Remy leaned down and read, he got an eyeful of 'Thief' bent over a tiny airline sink, legs spread while Scarecrow fucked him. He was not, and this was important, the sort of man who mewled like a bitch.

 

 "Sir," she was repeating as the business men started to rise, looking disgruntled. 

 

Remy didn't give a shit about them. The air marshal, on the other hand. Oh, sure he was undercover but Remy has picked out that haircut and that tell-tale buldge. 

 

"Jus' startled," he said, smiling his best damn smile, laying it on thick as jam. "Sorry 'bout dat. y'send me d'cleaning bill, you got da? Wen we be landin' okay?" Real damn thick. Everyone seemed to settle down. Remy was hoping that he'd get another drink but he was doubting the odds of that. And Kakashi kept typing. 

 

Remy didn't even know what the hell to make of that. He tried to ignore it, but it was hard. Impossible, really. Words like thrust and moan and grind kept popping up as if highlighted. Remy shut his eyes. "Y'a bastard." 

 

"No, Hatake is the family name on my father's side. He did marry my mother."

 

 "Well den y'ascend da usual definitions of bastard, ya croc fucker." 

 

"Thank you."

 

 "Don' soun' so damn. Happy aboud it!!!" Remy spat. 

 

Kakashi held out his still full glass. "Have a drink. Calm down. Relax. It's not like anyone but you knows that I'm writing about you. Everyone else will just think it's another one of my erotic fantasy tales." 

 

Remy took the drink. There didn't seem to be too much else he could do. Well, he did take the gem back too, quietly.

 

He held it in his hands a moment, pocketed it, then moved it discreetly to a different pocket. Then tried to work out what the hell the man next to him was playing at.

 

Remy'd been around a while, dammit. He'd been good at reading people since he'd learned to  tie his own shoes and qualify as people himself and even then he'd bet money he'd been a cute baby.

 

And Kakashi gave him a head ache. He'd met sadists, god-complex scientists, anti mutant fundies, pro-mutant fundies, dark gods, idealists, just-following-orders-soilders, old warhorses, wheelers, dealers, rednecks, thieves, queers, dykes, masochists, fruits, loops, jackasses, tight asses, assholes and methodists.

 

Remy couldn't quite, label Kakashi in a way that made him easier to deal with. Fucking infuriating was looking good, but it didn't give him anyway to  _ deal _ with the man.  "I don 'make da' noise," he snapped. "Ya use d'word mewl fo' times now, y'hack."

 

Kakashi paused scrolled up. "Twice. I've used it twice."

 

"Don' use id ad all!" Remy hissed. 

 

"You don't mind the fact I'm writing about you taking it so much as the fact you're not, ahem, taking it like a man?" Kakashi's smile wasn't even visible, but Remy KNEW it was there and he wanted to punch it till it went away. "What noise do you usually make, then?"

 

"I d'ge bend over, so I d'make any sorda noise," Remy said, crossing his arms. Staring raw hate at the seat in front of him. "D'femme's, dey mewl f'me. Non o dis', wha y'got."

 

"That's disappointing. I had you pegged as more flexible than that," Kakashi said with a mournful tone that had better be put on. "I suppose this'll just stay a fantasy, then. Shame. According to your file you're double jointed, and that's always fun in close quarters."

 

Click. Click.

 

Remy stared at the man. "What," he started, then stopped, then felt his skin crawl a little, then that stopped too, because, really-

 

"Maybe I'm being too subtle. Would you like to have sex?"

 

***************

 

Kakashi was bored now.

 

Remy'd spent the rest of the flight staring  out the window like he was measuring the distance to the ground, and Kakashi had let him dart off in the confusion of landing.

 

They'd landed sooner rather than later after Remy'd gotten up to use the restroom, and Kakashi was quite certain the man had tossed something small and charged into the vents to cause that smoke. 

 

Kakashi didn't mind that. That was interesting. THIS, this now, this was dull. Remy'd spent almost two full weeks weaving, back tracking, laying false trails, checking and rechecking his clothes for tracking devices. Hell, the item itself, blue and shimmering, was currently tied to a cell phone jammer in a leather suitcase lined with lead.

 

Clever. And cute. 

 

But ultimately....

 

"He's on the move, boss," Pakkun voice crackled a little.

 

Kakashi smiled. He loved radios. They made them so small now, you could fit one on a dog collar. They even made ones that broadcasted in a frequency too high for humans to hear. Oh, Pakkun spoke in English, but he was there, he knew when to shut up and go 'woof woof', but Kakashi could relay orders OUT constantly.

 

There was a low wuffle in the back round. "And numb nuts here needs to take a leak."

 

"Tell him to mark a tree."

 

"C'mon, boss he's too well trained for that. He wants to go to the park over there."

 

"Fine, but if he shits he needs to leave it on the grass. It drew a crowd when he got that newspaper and curbed it last time."

 

"On it, boss. He's got a throw away phone now."

 

"Excellent. He's reaching out," Kakashi finished his coffee and folded up the paper, left it on the bench. "Get me that phone if he tosses it."

 

"Yes'sir."

 

"And Pakkun?"

 

 "Yes'sir?"

 

"Stop with the Uncle Tom impersonation."

 

"You're just pissed the bitch isn't being receptive."

 

Kakashi pursed his lips and let out a shrill whistle that made both Pakkun and the tall, rangy wolfhound next to him flinch.

 

Then he started walking, lazily. The sun felt good on his bare face.

 

Well. Technically, 'her' bare face. Funny how some mental blocks worked. The thought of being maskless and himself in public would have caused a sort of mental breakdown, at the very least his pants would be missing a leg, or his shirt would be six inches shorter. 

 

But as 'Kakasho' (which, incidentally, was a stupid name and he needed to make up a new one, damn Naruto) he didn't care as much. Maybe it was the lipstick, maybe it was the fact he knew his jaw was different, but Sexy no Jutsu was it's own mask. Even if it sorta wasn't. The hair was a give away no matter what shape he took, and some deep stripe of pride that ran contrary to his mask issues wouldn't let him alter it.

 

Well, not the  _ color _ . The length? It currently went all the way to 'her' ass in a ponytail. Kakahsi was pretty sure he could choke someone to death with it. Which was really, kinda nifty. 

 

'She' shifted to jogging, a slow pace because tits were incredibly painful things when you shook them, which meant everything he'd seen on cable had been a fucking lie. Kakashi supposed buying a bra'd fix the whole thing but that seemed. Excessive. If faster was needed, it'd be simpler to go back to male. Maybe it wasn't the most, subtle appearance Kakashi could choose but sunglasses hid his eyes, and shocking white hair was a fashion choice on girls whereas it just made people confused about his age as a male.

 

Naruto had told him it was very Warhol like, and Kakashi had take a few days to decide if being compared to a painter of soup cans was a compliment or not. Naruto had said it sincerely enough but Naruto had gotten an extra decade to learn deceit.

 

"Bossman?" Pakkun said. The cheeky dog had tried 'headbitch' the other day and gotten a little rundown on this process known as neutering. Male pronouns had returned in force. 

 

"Don't worry, Pakkun. I have him now."

 

Beside, with the mask down, he could let his nose work properly and while it was a bit overwhelming in a city like this? The thief was a distinct ribbon in the air, bourbon and leather, sizzling ozone. It was a learned scent, after that time on the plane.

 

Kakashi smiled. Life was good, there were agents on standby if things when all pancake shaped, and it was a beautiful day.

 

*********One week later********

 

Naruto stared at the middle distance over the hospital bed. "And what, sensei," he said, finally, "the fuck happened?"

  
  
  


<chapter break goes here>

  
  
  


It would have worked, Kakashi mused tiredly afterwards, if it had been better footing.

 

The deep, cynical part of himself wondered if that had been on purpose.

 

He'd followed Remy another five twisty, twisty days, before getting on a flight. Apparently the man had thought that he was safe now, and probably wanted to get the damn item away from himself. Kakashi didn't mind any of this, because it made Remy ridiculously simple to follow now. 

 

The man had spent a night sleeping on the subway before heading down to the docks an hour before dawn.

 

Kakashi had followed, sipping too-strong coffee from a thermos.

 

Hand off at the docks. Hmm. He was supposed to follow the item, so he supposed he'd have to let Remy wander off. That was a shame. Remy was. Interesting. And the man had saved his life. He hadn't quite paid him back for that, yet. 

 

That was probably the crux of it, wasn't it? Kakashi mused, dropping the binoculars back into the small pack and running his fingers over the complex raised ink on his inner arm. Someone had saved his life, someone who didn't know him, who wasn't a fellow solider, someone who he hadn't given too much more than grief to that point. Alright, there had been bruises on his ribs like roses on snow that he was certain he hadn't had when he passed out, but he'd gotten those more than once from Genma. He had a kickable face, and he knew it. All the more reason to wear a mask.

 

Anyway, he'd have to make a note to... Keep an eye on Remy, after all this. Maybe even hunt him down again.

 

Remy wasn't bad at melting into shadows, Kakashi had to admit. if he hadn't been watching when the dark trench stopped moving that would be just another patch of dark.

 

"Dollar says your bitch there lights a cigg when his contact shows up," Pakkun muttered.

 

"What makes you say that?" Kakashi said, not taking the bet.

 

"Cause you would, if you smoked."

 

There was another patch of grey in the trash bags, a dirty, tired looking old mutt who wasn't happy to be there because it meant afterwards there would be a B-A-T-H. It snored a little, then stopped. 

 

Kakashi heard the tension in the air, tasted it, before he heard the low growl in Bunpei's throat. 

 

"Easy boy," he said, watching the flare of a match light up Remy's face. Yeah. Okay. It was nice and dramatic, and even if he didn't smoke, Asuma would have approved. "What is it?"

 

The growl rose and trailed off into the intent silence of an animal that is only pretending to lay still and sleep.

 

Remy's head was turning now. Talking to someone.

 

Someone Kakashi couldn't see. And Bunpei was too close to speak, apparently, not even in low wuffs. Which was ridiculous because human's here didn't look at dogs wuffling to themselves and licking their balls and think 'enemy agent' the only-

 

Ice formed up and down Kakashi's spine in a rush. No, that wasn't native thinking at all, was it, that was his thinking, that man the other man in the shadows one of his people, didn't it?

 

Someone Naruto'd missed, or who had gotten there sooner, someone good because Kakashi didn't feel anything that would normally let him know another shinobi was there. You had to be good to survive getting here in the first place, after all.

 

_ Be Konoha, _  he prayed.  _ Be Genma, be Raidou, they'd love this place. Be Iruka, be Aoba- oh, who am I kidding he'd never be this.. Noir and silent. Be someone I want at my back... _  he slide closer, dropping down from roof to  alley wall, clinging in darkness and straining his senses.  _ C'mon, c'mon.  _ He could almost feel the cosmic spin of the wheel. Big money, big money, and...

 

Slender, white hair, round glasses.

 

That was bankrupt, sorry, sorry, back to zero for you. 

 

Having that dangerous little shit there, taking the suitcase wasn't the worst of it. Having him looking WELL wasn't the worse of it. Having him have a gun at his hip, tastefully half hidden back a tailors jacket, wasn't the worst of it.

 

The worse of it was the bile in the back of his throat, the jerk in his own chakra, like he'd been punched, and Kabuto's head snapping around to stare into his darkness. The lenses caught the light in a way that made them two perfectly white circles on top of a charcoal grey pillar.

 

Kakashi let the pad of his thumb catch on his belt buckle, tear it. The little pack wasn't going ot be enough today. Blood hit ink on his arm, sizzled, and with a wrench of pain his right hand was filled with the hilt of his katana.

 

It was a damn good one, too. Not quite the miracle alloy of the Captain's shield, more flex to it than adamentium (as if he'd use anything you couldn't fold and hammer), but still light, well balanced, and good. 

 

It'd have been more comforting if Kabuto didn't have something gleaming in his hand too. Something shorter, maybe, wicked. It had unfolded, Kakashi'd seen that much and it was little but Kabuto was damn good. "Pakkun, tell the brat!" he snapped.

 

Remy hadn't had a chance to react yet. Kakashi reasoned that this was in his favor because Remy was probably operating on the assumption that Kabuto was an ally. Knocking the man out for his own damn good got put on Kakashi's short list of things to do today.

 

He had to take it off the list when, before Remy's arm could snap forward and shower him with exploding cards, Kabuto did Kakashi the dubious favor of stabbing the thief in the belly.

 

Not just a stab, really. A stab and an upward twist before Kabuto was moving.

 

Kakashi didn't have time to wonder what else was on that blade because he was already running past the falling man, both eyes open.

 

He was faster. he had to be. He was faster. 

 

And Kabuto had picked the where and the when. The ground was poor, rocky, under the docks. It was dark, it reeked of fish and diesel and the man had stuck exploding tags onto every single surface with alarming speed and accuracy.

 

And he had a gun, which he thankfully was only very good with.

 

AND he had the box.

 

Kakashi could track it. The box had Remy's scent on it. There was the blood smell, took, he could follow that for miles but Kabuto had gotten a good enough look and even as Kakashi was working out how to follow the smell he hit the pungent oil like a car hits a train.

 

Had Kabuto known? Kakasi wasn't sure. Right now all he was sure of was that his eyes and nose were screaming at him and he was in a crouch listening so hard his ear might start bleeding just to get in on the pain party.

 

Circle once, try to find one trail out....

 

No, there'd be clones, of course there would. At least six. they wouldn't have to be good clones, just mobile enough to drag the trail a mile up to the wharf.

 

He could still do it, his pride screamed. 

 

"Hey, boss man?"

 

"What?" He snapped.

 

"Your bitch is kinda burbling."

  
  


*********

 

That had been unique.

 

Everything had been going well. Remy'd gotten a LOT of the money up front, and more that morning, and now it was just handing over the item and getting the last ten thousand in euro's. A small amount at the end, slightly unusual but he'd been happy about that. People were less likely to look at a small pile of money, the item they wanted, and you right before attempted homicide than they were if it was a lot MORE money. And the tidy, strange man had always been so... Well, calm in the way that a syringe just lay there, he supposed. He'd had killer written on him clearly, but he'd also had 'I get paid to kill people' written on him and Remy had thought, up until the blade hit his gut, that he was probably someone who wanted a lot more than ten grand to get his hands dirty.

 

But the blade HAD hit, and fast, faster than he'd thought the man was capable of, and he'd really hadn't thought he'd been shortchanging the man in the abilities department, but that had been mutant quick.

 

Then that blur from the shadows had been going by with a gleam of steel and all Remy had managed to think was 'Damn ninja's' before he'd hit the ground, cards falling and fizzling out. 

 

Hands to his belly now. That wasn't good, that was a lot of wet warm red and that little knife had cut right through the light body armor like it hadn't even been there. He pushed at the wound and doubted it was helping. Gut wounds were slow but sure, right? 

 

Phone, phone, he had one, if he could just think of the right contacts too-

 

"burbling," someone said. 

 

Was saying.

 

what had he been doing? Phone, yes, getting the phone, it was already out in his hand, right but there was a voice maybe he should throw the phone instead charged phoned made shrapnel bombs because the buttons always went last. 

 

This hurt, this hurt badly. Remy wondered how fucked he was, really. That slick and warm under his palm, that he didn't dare to look at, said he was really, really fucked.

 

He had the phone.

 

He dropped it. Picked it up again. His finger's didn't want too, though. He dropped it.

 

Something hit his shoulder and he rolled to his back. The weight of his legs on shredded belly muscles made him start to scream but it died and ended in a whimper. 

 

In short, his day couldn't get any worse. 

 

"Mon dieu," he started, half mouthing, then a face swum into focus and he nearly spat. "connais,"

 

But that one eyed bastard- no wait that wasn't right there were two eyes there, didn't seem to mind, just reached down a hand to the red wet mess and-

 

Remy blacked out in self defense, but not quite quick enough to miss the sensation of finger's pushing into him. 

 

*******

 

"So you abandoned pursuit to patch up this one," Naruto said, looking at the mission report. It was written with typical Kakashi flair, almost a diary of what everyone around him had done, with no real details about himself. 

 

It mentioned the gut wound, and that the thing had been patched, but you had to read it twice to understand that the only one there to have patched it in the first place was Kakashi. 

 

Naruto wondered if all of Kakashi's reports had been like that, tried to imagine them, and realized... It was simple to picture. That was Kakashi in a nutshell. 

 

A Voyuer.

 

"Yes sir," Kakashi said. Eyes on the ground.

 

Naruto had a small internal war. On one hand... Kabuto had gotten away with the device.

 

On the other hand... Careful reading of Kakashi's earlier report indicated that Remy had, somehow, had a big part in the man getting out of the last mess alive. And since Kakashi was on Naruto's short list of people he gave a good goddamn about, he was inclined to not mind the thief's survival. "For questioning?" Because honor was good but if they could get a practical use out of the man well, then. Brownie points.

 

"Yes sir?" A question almost.

 

"I think Tsunade's with him now," Naruto said, sitting. "We'll keep him a week, then decide if we want to let him escape, or simply dump him in Mexico. Probably that last one. He might break things while he leaves."

 

"And Kabuto?"

 

Naruto shut his eyes. "We're working on it."

 

Kakashi exhaled, and Naruto could watch the thought process. It was going like this:  _ he should have patched Remy up half assed and left him for the soldiers to find, Tracked Kabuto down, and killed him. _

 

... Never mind that Remy's liver had been in two pieces and just patching that had left him woozy and then he'd stood up too fast and Pakkun had bit his calf to get him to sit back down. Those were trivial little facts.

 

Naruto wasn't sure when he'd learned to read people, but having Kakashi be a suddenly half open book had been disconcerting the first few times. Maybe it was just being an adult. 

 

*********

  
  


Tits.

 

Remy'd sorta expected Heaven to have tits, but he hadn't actually expected to GET there. It was hard to be optimistic about your odds for eternal reward when you robbed and lied for a living.

 

These were tits though, huge ones in a complicated, well reinforced bra, judging by their lift. He'd guess at, oh, seven to eight hooks, actually. A very wide band holding those up in that crisp olive drab shirt. With a name on it.

 

That should mean something but he was trying to guess at the lace pattern now. Flowers? Swirls? They were far too big but they moved like they might be real.

 

A sort of throat-based cough, sharp in a way that implied it wasn't really needed, brought his attention to the fact that the tits had an owner. Which was right, and natural. Let boobs like that run amok without supervision and the world might just end. 

 

Golden eyes? "Hi Cherie," he said, and his voice was an alarming rasp. When she didn't soften from his charming smile, he added. "W'reading y'name dere."

 

The woman, an attractive blonde, gave him a look that have volumes and volumes to say about how little she was buying that. Then she spoke, in a careful sort of voice, just slowly enough to be insulting. "Speak. English. Or. No. More. Pain. Killers."

 

"Dey don' work none anyway," Remy said, frowning. Tits or not, he didn't like being spoken down too.

 

"Then I'll take them off," she said, doing something.

 

He didn't know what she'd done. She'd just leaned over him- and this was the part where he realized he was in a bed, and couldn't sit up- and then...

 

His body went suddenly rigid with the effort of not letting a stupid task like breathing move a single part of himself. His grip went white knuckled on the rails of the cot.

 

Hospital cot. Olive drab shirt. Gold eyes. Remy was not like the picture he was building. The only thing it was missing, really? A collar.

 

When his wrists were caught up by leather cuffs attaching him to the bed, he felt the metal  around his neck for the first time.

 

Then the woman reached out a hand, and he went limp as the pain vacated. "D'fuck am I?"

 

She arched an eyebrow. "Your file says your'e a gambling man. What do you want to bet I like being treated with respect?"

 

Pride and self preservation got into a fight. Pride lost. "S'rry."

 

"Good boy."

 

 He pulled at the leather cuff. If he twisted his hand, he could just touch it but the leaden feeling in his head meant that this didn't matter too much. Damn thing was well designed, too. Clasps were nowhere even remotely close to his fingers. "Where am I?" A pause then. "If y'don mind leddin me know?"

 

"Medical wing of the Triesklon," she said. "My name is Tsunade. And my eyes are up here."

 

"I ain' looking at dem!" Remy protested. 

 

"No, you're plotting your escape. It's rude. We're having a conversation."

 

Remy leaned his head back and stared at her. The surreal quality was giving him deja vu. "Y'wid him, ain' ya? Dat one eyed crazy connais d'wrote me mewling. Hatake."

 

Tsunade stared at him a long moment. "I've checked your brain. You're not injured. Speak English."

 

Remy blinked.  Scowled. Wanted badly to curse her out in really proper Cajun, the sort that even others who'd grown up on the Gulf Coast would need a minute to decode.

 

But... That had  _ really _ hurt before. And Memory was being a cruel, cruel girl and letting him recall the sensation of someone else's hand in his guts, of round glasses and a fast blade. Triesklon was SHIELD. Hatake was SHIELD. "Kakashi. Hatake Kakashi, number, ahh, dere was a nine in id," he said, taking care to enunciate the name. 

 

She rolled her eyes. "There was a nine in it?" A snort.

 

Remy was getting really tired of being treated like a stupid child, and even more fed up with not being able to do a damn thing about it. "Yes, dere was." At least being frustrated gave his brain a good hard kick. "Zero-niner-seven-two-zero." 

 

Her turn to blink, then chuckle. "Yep, that's him. That makes you Thief, right? Is that what you meant by  _ ewling _ ? Mewling?"

 

Remy added mortified to the list of emotions he was fed up with feeling. 

 

"He really usually writes better than that," Tsunade added. "I think he was teasing you a little."

 

Remy gave her a thin lipped  _ look. _

 

She shrugged. "Anyway, you're awake and you're lucid. Know what that means?"

 

Remy shook his head.

 

"Time for twenty questions. That's someone else's job, though. Probably Hatake's. He requested it, after all."

 

Remy shut his eyes. He could hear that white haired pirate-y bastard's voice in his head. Giving  _ and _  receiving, right. Fuck. "I hate twenty questions."

 

*********

 

People always looked their smallest in hospital beds. It was a universal law. At least, it was supposed to be.

 

Kakashi'd seen this before. Even the biggest men looked so, small in those damn things. Like they were just waiting to go from people to corpses. Usually.

 

Remy didn't look small. Remy filled the bed the way a wet bobcat filled a car trunk. 

 

Kakashi slipped inside the door and let it shut. He didn't skulk at all. "I have a few questions for you, before you can go," he said, picking up the clip board. It didn't have a chart that a doctor here would be able to make out, but Kakashi knew what it meant. "Well, then in a week you can go," he amended.

 

"D'hell'd y'bring me here?"

 

"Because I wasn't a good enough medic to do more than a quick patch job," Kakashi said. "You do remember getting stabbed, right?"

 

_ Yes, _  said Remy's face as the head it was on gave a curt nod.

 

"I patched you up, someone else stabilized you the rest of the way, and we brought you here because Tsunade's here," Kakashi went on. "But Kabuto got away."

 

"Who?" 

 

"The man that stabbed you in the gut," Kakashi said, patiently. "I need to know what you know about him, so I can hunt him down and kill him."

 

Remy seemed to consider this a moment, then proceeded to get some grudging respect out of Kakashi by asking, "Why?"

 

"Why?"

 

"Lodda people ou' dere dat mabbe say I had it comin'," Remy said, thoughtfully. "So, yeah. Why?"

 

Kakashi leaned his head back, looking at the fluorescent light for a long minute. "Because he really needs to die," he said, finally. "It's a very long story, but he's a traitor and a bastard and if he's not up to something now, he will be soon, and it'll be a lot easier for everyone if he's just dead."

 

"An killin' wha y'do best?" Remy said, tone oddly dry. Then he snorted. "Bedda den y' damn porn?"

 

"I'm getting better at the writing," Kakashi said, moving forward. The straps were't complicated. The Best restraints usually weren't. You couldn't pick what you couldn't reach, and all that. He started with an ankle, then draped the leather over the foot of the bed. "Gut wound, so you're not really going anywhere. If you insist on leaving this room, there's a whole floor more or less open to you," he said, in a conversational tone. "We may let you escape, but not before you're stable. There's about a seventy eight percent chance, according to the psyc guys, that you'll go and 'settle' this yourself if we let you out,"

  
  


"Let me escape?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Like y'let me lose ya afta d'airplane?" 

 

"Exactly like that, yes."

 

"An when I get ta 'im, y'gonna show up again?"

 

"Myself or someone like me."

 

"Mabbe someone like y' but fas' enough I dun get stabbed?"

 

"If you hunt him down a second time he'll use a bio-energy blade to sever your heart inside your chest," Kakashi said. "Probably. Something like that. It'll be less. Polite."

 

"P'lite."

 

"Yes."

 

"An option B bein?"

 

"You skip the part when you try to lose me and the government buys your airline tickets," Kakashi said.

 

It's worth noting that the offer he was making right now, had been in no way, shape or form authorized. At all. By anyone. The options had been explained to Kakashi ask 'get information' and if that didn't work, 'release and track'. 

 

Both legs were free now. Kakashi moved to hands. "The collar takes a key," he added. 

 

"Shur it does," Remy mumbled. "I found y'damn blog. Y'got a thing fa 'collars."

 

"I wrote one story that involved collars. That doesn't qualify as a fetish. It's a kink at best," Kakashi said, calmly. "And that one's certainly not my type. Now, these leather cuffs they put you in, on the other hand..."

 

He caught the punch before it could impact his jaw, cuff in question hitting the floor. "Oh, relax. Non-consensual is not my thing."

 

"An' restraint is?" Remy tried to pull his hand back, and Kakashi just, didn't let it happen. 

 

He leaned over, instead, and loosened the last strap. "It's not the only thing I order but if it's on the menu, why not? Having someone willing give you that sort of power's heady stuff." He stood back, letting go.

 

Remy rubbed his wrists. "Id always go back ta sex fa' you, don' it?"

 

"You brought up my writings," Kakashi said. "Those are mostly sex. So you brought up sex. Not that you can have it right now, with that gut, wound."

 

Remy was examining said gut wound now, gingerly pushing the sheets down and the pale hospital gown up, half curling away from Kakashi.

 

Maybe doctors and nurses would be the next thing he put up. Love is the best medicine. Something with a trace of the occult. Half angel nurse who fucks you better? Kakashi debated a few different possibilities while Remy poked at himself. He didn't need to peek, he'd already gotten a good look at the wound when it was fresh, thank you, and he'd seen Tsunade's work.

 

All that'd be there would be a tender, pink scar, and ink stains. Maybe some bruising.

 

"She's very good," Kakashi offered.

 

"How long I been out?" Remy asked, not looking.

 

"Eight days. It's fragile heal. In another week you'll be able to start abusing those muscles without having to worry about the bonds failing."

 

"Sorda tech is id?"

 

"She's a medic."

 

"Cherie, she got d'healin touch?"

 

"Yes. I learned what I used to save you from her."

 

"Learned id?"

 

Kakashi nodded when Remy twisted enough to look at him. "Learned. It's technique, not technology. Like. Magic." He had to grit out that last word. "Except it's not, and don't ever call it that out loud it's insulting. But it's the easiest way to explain it. It's Chakra. Think magic, say chakra."

 

"Ch'kra," Remy flopped back, wincing and putting his hand over the scar. "Ch'kra but don call id dat. I c'do dat."

 

"And no, we're not mutants. Technically," Kakashi said. Remy's eyes were shut, there was a fine sweat on his face, and his shirt was still hitched up. "There're a few classifications, but if you're in Shield I think they just call us the fighting freaks. Unofficially."

 

"An y'led dem?"

 

Kakashi shrugged, then quickly said, "Well, yes," before Remy opened his eyes and found out his belly button was getting stared at. "Why not?"

 

"Y'was orderin dem about an all," Remy said, shifting a little as if to get comfortable.

 

"So why not order them not to call me that?" Kakahsi shrugged. "I've been called worse. Fighting freak, as labels go, is accurate enough." Was the man doing it on purpose or was he just a bit bewildered by the circumstances? Kakashi stretched out his fingers, let his hand relax.

 

Belly petting could come in a week, if that almost preen was on purpose. It probably hadn't been. 

 

Oogling wasn't the best way he could be spending his time, Kakashi told himself. "It'll stay sore for another month," he said, watching long fingers tap at the scar. He pulled up a chair, sat down and pulled out a book. Much better use of your time, he told himself. 

 

"Y'da guard now?"

 

"No. I'm supposed to be questioning you, remember?" Kakashi turned a page, and didn't look up till he felt eyes on him.

 

'By readin'?"

 

"I already told you what I want to do. If it'd make you feel better I could menace you a bit," Kakashi said with a shrug, looking up. Remy'd noticed the pitcher of ice water and the plastic cup and was investigating it cautiously like it might bite. "There's no poison in that," he said, amused. "You didn't respond to most of the compounds we tried to inject into you. It's why Tsunade was in here doing pain control."

 

"Yeah dat happens," Remy sounded distracted as he either discovered, or was reminded, that if you have a stomach injury every single muscle in your body was somehow routed through your navel. He spilled some, set the pitcher down, and fumbled with the sheets a bit until he could adjust the bed and get himself a bit more upright. "Y'can skip d'menacing bit, mon ami." The struggle with the water resumed.

 

Kakashi watched a second splash get followed by the pitcher falling out of sight behind the bed. There wasn't a crash, though. What happened was this-

 

Remy dropped the thing, then jumped about a foot vertically, then fell back clutching his stomach as a very LARGE dog unfolded itself from unto the bed and put the pitcher back, pausing to lick up the spills. 

 

"Good Baiji," Kakashi said, tucking the book away. 

 

"Whadda hell's a Baiji?" Remy asked, trying to scoot away from the large dark muzzle.

 

"Baiji's a mutt but I think one of his parents was a great dane," Kakashi said. "I'm just guessing, really." Baiji wuffled. It barely needed translation but Kakashi did anyway. "He thinks you should give him a treat because he's a good boy, and he caught your spill," Kakashi said, reaching into a pocket. 

 

His dogs, at least, loved it here, because  _ here _  you could buy strips of dried duck breast by the five pound sack for the express purpose of having the best dog treats on the block. He threw two over the bed just to watch Remy try not to jump as Baiji's friendly head exploded into toothy death and then went back to just hopeful.

 

"An he wa' just unda da  bed?" Remy said, weakly. "Y'talk dog?"

 

"I talk with my pack."

 

"Dere be more o' dem."

 

"Yes. There's always a few here, it's home base after all and it's good for them to have some free time," Kakashi said. Remy had that look on his face, the one he'd had on the plane, and clearly said 'somewhere in this room there is an exit, if you could point it out to me please?'. Kakashi sighed, and patted his knee. Baiji trotted over and sat next to him, a tiny mountain. 

 

Remy leaned back, slowly. "One week?"

 

"Seven days. Give or take depending on if you strain it between now and then. You don't want Tsunade to have to patch you twice."

 

"All d' questionin' gonna be like dis?"

 

"Well, sometimes there'll be sandwiches," Kakashi said. "Which you can't eat yet, so you'll jsut have to look at them while you have soup and jello."

 

"Ah, s'there is some torture planned."

 

**********

 

Remy tried it again, for the sake of scientific inquiry.

 

He poked the jello (and what sick bastard had decided that the only color he'd get was yellow-bad-fake-pineapple, anyway?) and looked back up.

 

There was another bite gone from the bacon cheese and turkey monstrosity in front of Kakashi.

 

Man wasn't even chewing. 

 

"Y'tossing bits t'ya dogs?" he asked, finally, staring at the man with somewhat irrational hatred.

 

"Bunpei's full. They get fed raw meat and egg," Kakashi replied. "I don't feed them bread it makes them gassy."

 

Remy glared, poked at the jello, and looked back up just in time to see Kakashi setting the empty plate to one side. The water level in the glass was lower, too. "Y'godda thing 'bout y'face, don't you?"

 

Kakashi looked up from his book and blinked, slowly.

 

"I mean, y'got a weird eye an mabbe dere's a reason y'keep it under d'patch," Remy went on, stabbing his jello like it had personally insulted his jacket. "But d'ain't nothing wrong with y'mouth. I seen y'mouth. Y'don't have fangs, y'don't breath out posions, y'don't got any sortda sonic anything cause when w'met y'had s'bit o tshirt t'cover y'face up like a bandit and t-shirt's, dey don't really block sonic less y'wad dem up and stuff dem in s'one's pie hole."

 

Another slow blink. Maybe it was a wink, but it felt like a blink so Remy stuck with that. "I'd almost forgotten," he said, finally. Head turning back down. "Huh."

 

"Huh what?"

 

"Just. Huh," Kakashi said, turning a page. Reading a moment. "I suppose it's too late to kill you then."

 

"F'seein y'face? Like I need t'see y'face t'pick y'out of a lineup?" Remy snorted. "Why y'godda ting 'bout it? S' jus'a face."

 

"We were on a night flight."

 

"So?"

 

"You were wearing sunglasses until the stewardess brought you a drink. On a night flight. Inside."

 

"Dat be differen'."

 

"How?"

 

"Wan'ned d'make sure she brought my' drink b'fore she saw em," Remy said, gesturing at his face, eyes in particular. "Once d'plane's up in d'air dey can't kick y'off and dey'll try real hard t'keep everyone nice an calm, y'see? Anyway y'dress like me and be charm in y'shades den dey all tink y'a musician anyways and dey don't expect much afta dat."

 

Kakashi just kept reading. Remy got a spoonful of Jello, and with the precision of a surgeon launched a wobbly blob of yellow at Kakashi's head. 

 

"Y'let dat hit you," Remy accused.

 

It looked like a pat of butter on a somewhat hairy pile of mashed potatoes, and it was joined by more when Kakashi failed to react. The plastic cup, being rather light and unsuited to the role of projectile weapon, didn't make it but everything else hit true.

 

And then there was. Silence. Remy stared at the man and for the first time in a long time, tried to  _ read _  someone. Normally he got a 'feel' for people that was barely more detailed than pure observation, and frankly using the 'charm' gave him a bit of a head ache if he focused it, but this was a special occasion.

 

He got. Nothing. No annoyance, no amusement. Mild, tired interest. 

 

"Mus' be one hell of a book," he grumbled, privately disconcerted. Generally, people who felt like THAT were... Well honestly they were very dull people. Train commuters.

 

Bunpei put his paws on the arm of the chair and licked Kakashi's hair clean. That got a reaction, at least, Kakashi tilted his head to make it easier for the mutt to reach. 

 

"I borin' you here, cher?" 

 

"Not in the least. I think you're a fascinating person, and I'd like to have sex with you."

 

Remy rubbed his face, because his eye was twitching. Again. "Y'lying," he said, a dull pain starting behind his left eye as he pushed harder for. Something. This was  real person, not a robot, he KNEW that, right? But it wasn't...

 

Kakashi looked up. "I don't know what you're doing," he said, finally. "But it's making all the little lights on your collar blink."

 

Remy started, a little, and stopped pushing. Maybe Kakashi already knew, somehow. That shouldn't be in Shield's files, shouldn't be in anyone's files, but it was possible and the Charm only really worked on the unaware. But the collar wasn't blocking his empathy, was it? No, he'd had that blocked it felt like cotton in his ears and eyes and chest. "Mabbe id feeling festive?"

 

"Maybe. Or you're trying something. They've stopped now, did you give up?"

 

"I don' give up dat easy," Remy said, rubbing his neck. The collar wasn't tight, he could slide a hand under ot rub at his neck.  Not that it mattered. it was still smaller than his head, and he'd wasted two hours trying to get the thing off. He'd waste two more, later.

 

"Where would you start to look for him?" Kakashi asked the wall.

 

Remy was  _ sure _ he asked the wall, because it was a damn stupid question to ask  _ him.  _

 

_ " _ Who put out the call for a thief?"

 

At least the questions were the right sort. It wasn't the tone he'd expected, of course. He'd expected something a bit darker than an almost polite inquiry. He poured himself a glass of water, sipped it slowly.

 

"Want a lemon slice?" 

 

Remy smiled to himself, on the inside, at least. Kakahsi's tone had been a little bit dry, there. "Yes, please, mon ami."

 

Alright, the lemon slice appearing was a bit impressive. Except it was a little bit on the brown side. "D'hell's d'matter wid it?

 

"It was in my coke."

 

Remy stared at it. Debated it. Then decided... Fuck it, and took a drink. "Y'ain't said 'bout y'face yet."

 

"What about my face?"

 

Remy went on like he hadn't heard anything. "Y'know Mystique, she godda ting 'boud her face, too. Her real face, ad least, not whadever face she got on fa' da day. Femme hates mirrors." He really wished he could  _ feel _ if his prodding was hitting any sore points with the bastard. "Y'godda ting agains' mirrors, mon ami?"

 

"No, I don't."

 

"Don' mind seeing y'self in dem, den?" Remy said, over the cup. "Mabbe I missed sometin' las' time, den. Lemme have another look?"

 

"Would you like to know what happens if I leave?"

 

"Y'gonna tell me, ain't ya?"

 

"If I leave someone who will get answers will come in to ask questions."

 

"Y'ain' gonna leave jus' cause I wanna see y'face again, cher," Remy said, smiling. "Y'wanna fuck me, y'ain' gonna ruin y'already shit odds o dat happenin' jus' cause I wanna see y'smilin' face. Shouldn' dey have people already out dere chasing da liddle weasel anyhow?"

 

"They have the same chances of finding Kabuto as you'd have of finding me."

 

"See? Since we got time, dere ain' no rush, and id just a Hail Mary sendin' me out an hopin' m'faster'n all ya 'ittle black ops connaiss."

 

"Ah, but you're a denizen."

 

"Dat soun' a bid on da rude side."

 

"You have contacts. I've already pressed mine, but mine are all exactly the sort of people Kabuto would have avoided. People like me," Kakashi hummed. "I lie, there's one more to check."

 

"W'don'cha go n' do dat, den? Or y'hopin dat syndrome'lll kick in an help y'get into m'pants easier?"

 

"Stockholm?" Kakashis nose wrinkled. "Don't be stupid, you're not going to be here that long and I'm not putting nearly enough pressure on you to trigger that."

 

"Wouldn' know d' details," Remy said.  _ But you seem t', mon ami. _ ..

 

"I'd have to control more than just the color of your jello to trigger that," Kakashi went on.

 

"Knew pineapple had t'be sum sorta tordture."

 

"Is that what it was?" Kakashi said. "I thought it was supposed to be lemon, or something."

 

"It'd were tryin t'be pineapple, but id ain' doin' so good."

 

"Ah, well, five more days."

 

"An den I get led oud?"

 

"And then we'll let you escape."

 

"Y'don tink mabbe since y'tol' me dat 'bout ten times now jus' openin' da door fa 'me'd be good 'nough?"

 

"And miss the opportunity to test our security?" Kakashi had the gall to smile when he said it, too. It made Remy's hand twitch. 

 

**********

 

Bunpei trotted, lazily, down the hallways. He knew his way by muscle memory and smell, and the soldiersall knew him.

 

Well, not HIM, exactly but the sight of a dog trotting along with a rolled up note in it's mouth had a sort of palovian response on them at this point. Mainly, they got out of his way. A few braver ones would give him a pet as he walked by, but they were few and far between.

 

Today he was going down, down left right until he came to the slug woman. She was always easy to find, her smell sparkled in the air like wet leaves and mulch.

 

She was in a leather chair (and oh, leather chair with scent on it, cat small maybe had there been a cat and-) and she took the scroll, read it, and dashed Bunpei's hopes of a treat by kicking over a small table in annoyance and yelling Pack Leader's name in a tone that implied Pack leader was going to get a good thrashing.

 

********

 

Remy hurt more or less all over. 

 

There was a lot of reasons for this. A lot. He knew there were a lot of reasons cause this sorta hurt usually had several sources. 

 

He just. Didn't know any of those reasons yet. 

 

"Mon dieu," he mumbled, leaning on the wall. Sitting slowly.

 

Oh, he'd been upright?

 

Well, bully for him. His mouth tasted a bit like bile, and his head was throbbing.

 

Drinking combined with an ass kicking? His stomach screamed at him. No, not stomach, just, the muscles in his belly,

 

_ round glasses reflecting perfect white, gleaming blade in the air for a heartbeat and no more than that- _

 

Ahh, yes. He'd been stabbed, then patched, then he'd apparently ignored Doctor Lady Biggun's orders to lay still. Why had he not do that again?

 

Jello.

 

Ouch.

 

Daylight hurt, and he glared at it sullenly until he worked out that it wasn't, in fact, daylight. It was...

 

Aww, hell. 

 

He looked up at the brilliantly colored sign, and felt the rest of the world slip into focus around it. Yes, there was the sign, there was the door, now his ears were telling him about the music, there were the people stepping over his legs because he was on the damn sidewalk-

 

He stood up, shakily, to fix that. Damn, damn, this was not where he wanted to be. This was the opposite of where he wanted to be, really, since he wanted to be not here.

 

Where the hell had Kakashi gotten too?

 

It was a weird enough thought that he stopped, looked around to see who'd said that. 

 

No, wait.

 

They'd gotten on a plane. and Kakashi'd...

 

No, after that.

 

Past. Okay.

 

Yesterday.

 

They'd gotten here yesterday, and Remy had not been happy, but Kakashi'd told him (while twisting his arm) that it'd be okay, and hey, now, look, here have a drink, then he and the other man had gotten drinks too-

 

The collar was still on. Shit. He was powerless, hung over, bruised up, hell, still a little drunk... And on Bourbon street.

 

He wondered if Belladonna still had that nice big picture of him for a dart board. Where had it been? In the main room of the guild, right?

 

_ An what guild would dat be den, y'dumb bastard? Oh yeah, dat'd be the assassins, dose people she d'damn queen of, _  his brain snarked.  _ Y'a dead man, Remy, y'better get y'ass going now s'ya can die tired ad least. _

 

He made it a whole limping, cursing block, far enough away to get away from Bourbon street, away from the sounds of jazz, far enough to look at the sky and guess it was, oh, maybe five am, and...

 

Funny. He actually smelled her perfume just in time to turn around and meet the blackjack with his face.

 

It made him dream.

 

******

 

Kakashi had noticed when Remy'd 'slipped' out the door on the way to the loo.

 

He hadn't done anything because one, he was mind bogglingly drunk, two, he wasn't sure Remy'd done it on purpose, and three...

 

... three...

 

He looked at his fingers. "Third reason?"

 

"Huh?" His drinking partner said, then. "Y'shit faced."

 

"You talk like all these, other, people, here," Kakashi said, gesturing with a scowl that involved the rest of the club downstairs. He swayed gently with the beat.

 

"It rubs off. And it's kinda, sexy. Like y'don't know. I think he wandered off."

 

"Y'ah I saw. D'ya think he's really in danger f'her?"

 

"Naw. I told her he was here, y'know. She wants me t'think that she wants him dead but, y'know, she's,"

 

"Femme Bella, the petite?"

 

"Y'ah, what the drunk ragin' cajun said."

 

"Damn stupid name,that."

 

"Copy nin."

 

Kakashi's mouth, opened, closed, and he laughed suddenly. "Shikaku!" 

 

"That's not a stupid name!" Shikaku said, then laughed. "Cept, cept it sorta is."

 

If the waitress gave them a weird look and set down a new pitcher, neither of them noticed.

 

"S'you set your sights on the ass that just, wobbled on outta here?"

 

Kakashi made a gun with his fingers, a 'pew!' noise, and nodded, chuckling behind the medical mask.

 

"He's got a habit of walking out on people that would rather he stayed," Shikaku said.

 

Kakashi heard the seriousness of the tone, tried to focus on it, failed.

 

"But that's better than dead."

 

Kakashi nodded. Lots of things were better than dead. Ice cream, for starters. 

 

There had been beer floats on the menu. That was awesome.

 

"This doesn't have anything to do with the time of year, does it?" Shikaku prodded. 

 

Kakashi eyed him suspiciously and tried to do a drink count in his head. Was the bastard really still sober enough to be nosy, or drunk enough to be blunt?

 

"The spring?" Skikaku prompted.

 

Kakashi relaxed, snorted a little. "Don't be dumb. He loved summer best."

 

"Ah, well."

 

Kakashi turned the menu around and pointed at the beer float. "Need. This,," he said, aware he sounded borderline whiny.

 

Shikaku just laughed.

 

******

 

Bella Donna sat perched on a stool, playing with a knife. It'd been a present, that particular knife, she was quite fond of it. It had a ceramic blade that tucked into the body of a pen. Five inches long, and wonderfully lethal. 

 

It also cut orange peels very nicely which was why it was a bit orange and slightly fragrant. She didn't mind, it helped get rid of the dark rust stain. Really she needed to dismantle it and clean it properly soon but she wasn't sure how easy it'd be to put back together, and it HAD been a gift. It was also something to think about that wasn't currently in a tall backed chair. Man wasn't even talking yet and already her stomach was being a traitorous sort of organ. Damn squishy thing was up to something with her heart and lungs, she knew it. 

 

Remy was doing that thing he thought he was better at then he was, where he woke up but his breathing stayed the same and he didn't move.

 

It'd been cute. Once.

 

She aimed her kick very carefully to nail just inside his thigh, behind the knee. She made certain her heel hit, and she'd worn her extra awful ones today.

 

It took a moment, but he looked up with a pretty good kicked puppy face. "Ow, petite. Dat hurt."

 

"The hell are you doing drunk in my town, you swamp rat bastard!"

 

Her next kick was aimed higher but she hadn't strapped him in quite tight enough and he managed to move enough he was just wincing, not burbling quietly. "Lookin f'd door, I swear!" He protested, jerking at the bonds. 

 

Good luck to him there. She'd used six or seven rolls of duct tape on his arms, his right wrist and hand was free, but bare and there wasn't anything he could use within finger's reach. 

 

"That's your answer?" She asked, putting her shoe to his chest. Really. Bitchy heels. They were murder to walk in, hell, she was sitting and they made the balls of her feet hurt, but the pointy heels were a combination of lethal weapon and sex and really, with a grandiose title like hers there was probably some sort of guild rule about her not having a pair. She let it dig in, and since he wasn't wearing more than a thin grey shirt, blood was drawn.

 

He hissed, then pouted.

 

"Stop that," she said, digging it in harder and drawing her leg back. 

 

"But y'hurtin me!"

 

"Y'not a puppy, don't make that face."

 

He rolled his head down, then back up. Took in the room a second, then stared at her foot. "Y'hate these boots," he said, finally, looking up.

 

She kicked his jaw so hard she had to get off her stool and prop him back upright. NOW he looked dazed again. 

 

"S'day we gonna have t'meet up an have coffee like real people," he was muttering. 

 

She poked him in the big, purple welt she'd given him earlier. The one between his eyes. "We're not real people, swamp rat." 

 

"S'you," he said, eyes crossing a minute.

 

"Still a step up from y' little southern slut, though," she added, poking the lump again viciously. With her nail, this time. Practical they weren't, but sharp nails was NICE for prodding people. 

 

"She not mine, she not little, and she certainly ain't a slut," Remy snapped, leaning his head back.

 

"You'd have lost interest in her years ago if she was, I suppose," Bella put the tidy little ceramic blade to his jugular. "What's with the jewelry?" She eyed the collar. "Y'not back to government work, are y?" She added sarcastically, pivoting the blade until it was the tip, and not the edge, against his skin. It removed a bit of stubble, that motion.

 

There oughta be a law, she thought, to herself, about men who looked better the more disheveled they were. She'd seen Remy cleaned up before. In a suit, even, all clean shaven and washed hair and tucked in shirt, and it just wasn't the same. It was like giving a wolf a poodle cut. You could but WHY?

 

"Y'din see d'white haired bastard? He d'goverment man."

 

"Mm. And you brought him here?" A delicate bead of blood was forming, she watched it, impassively, because it was easier than looking at his face. 

  
  


"Non, cherie, he dragged me here. He a jackass."

 

"So I have him to thank, then," she mused, pulling the knife away. "I'll have to make a note."

 

"Look, petite, m'sorry I w'in y'town but really d'white haired bastard, he a new kind o dangerous and he kinda dragged me there, and den dat other man kept giving m'drinks," he said. "Dinna mean t'play in y'sandbox, M'Bella."

 

"M' not your Bella," she said, stalking behind the desk. There were a few things on the desk, of course, for the look of it. Mostly sharp things, all pointed at him. She sat down hard. "I was for a while but y'know what? By the third time watching y' scruffy ass walk away it stops looking quite so good." 

 

She picked up a not-pointy object that happened to be loaded, and pointed it at his head. "Don't. Talk." 

 

"Din't say a word."

 

.45's will leave big holes in oak floors. The spot between his feet now had a fresh, smoking example.

 

Remy looked at it a moment, she waited until he started to look up, mouth already moving-

 

He never had been quiet in a confrontation, not unless he was really afraid, or really mad, she remembered that,

and squeezed off another two rounds.

 

When the echo died down, she pulled the small, delicate ear plugs out and stretched her jaw open, felt the pop in her head. "Alright, now that you're going to be quiet," and this time he made a show of pressing his lips together. 

 

She opened her top left drawer, moved a few small skulls to the table (some clients expected a certain feel to the room and half a dozen muskrat skulls usually did the trick, with some heavy eye liner and maybe a bottle of bourbon finishing it off) slid the secret bottom out of the drawer (everyone knew about it, it was a good place to put things you wanted everyone to know, and faster than memos,) and pressed the even better hidden button that popped open another drawer.

 

This was a thin drawer. All it had in it was a manila envelope. A worn one.

 

"You know what this is? Remy? This is a list of your sins."

 

**********

 

<chapter break here>

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*****

 

"M'sins take up seven pages?"

 

Bella held them out. The priest had one of those old dot-matrix printers, so all seven pages were connected in a ribbon. She'd meant to disconnect them but at the soul of every assassin lurks a brightly plumaged drama queen that wants to wear the insanely high heels, and wants to kill people in slick, inventive silent ways because any idiot can use a GUN. "Yep."

 

He tilted his head. "Bella, when did y' start caring 'bout my immortal soul?"

 

"I don't. Father McBreenden does."

 

He kept staring at the paper as if hoping he could read it, even if it wasn't facing him. 

 

"Father. Mc. Breenden," she repeated, slowly. Her tone was ice and he looked up in self preservation.

 

"Oh. Him. Um, he was d'one dat, he, um,"

 

"He  _ married us you insenstive prick! _ " She bellowed. 

 

There was a thud as he hit the floor, again. Mostly because she'd slid over the desk and kicked him. Now the pointy heel of her shoe was directly over the '+' formed by the inseams of his jeans. 

 

"I was lookin' at d'bride!"

 

And there it was. Charming. Maybe even sincere. And so sharp he'd cut himself. 

 

She pressed the heel down a little. "Sure you were. What was I wearing?"

 

"White but y'should have had blue trim cause d'night before-"

 

She pressed harder.

 

 "And t'earring I'd gotten y'when we was fifteen and y'mother's pearls and y' had a bouquet o something colorful cause y'hated d'white roses and Bella c'ya maybe not knock m'down n'more only I had a lot t'drink and id be a shame t'get y'carpet's all dirty wid, y'know, puke and blood."

 

She leaned back, eased the pressure off. A little. "It's scotch guarded."

 

He made an audible 'whew' noise.

 

She started to prop him back up and he groaned. "Bella, 'bout dat puke? Rather y'dinna move me right now..."

 

"If you choke to death on your own bile, I'm not stopping you," she said. She waved the papers at him. "See this? Father McBreenden wrote this up for me. You know what this is? This is what you're going to sign, you scuzzy little leech, and this is what you're going to take t'him so that he'll consider our marriage dissolved." There. The truth. Stupid, and simple. "The old fashioned bastard's refusing to remarry me."

 

Remy blinked. "But din' we?"

 

"Legally, yes, but he's being a stubborn old coot about it, and if I want to get married in that church," and she leaned down, glared. "Remember the church, you bastard? If I want to get married THERE then I either need you to show up dead in the damn river, or you need to tell him it's over. Till Death do us part and don't think I didn't recognize you on that horse having a midlife crisis way to fucking early."

  
  


Remy was just sort of staring at her now.

 

"So when you think you can hold a pen, you can sign," she repeated. "That's the important part."

 

"... Who y'gonna marry?"

 

"It's not important, you might get to meet him, you might not," she said, sitting on the edge of the desk.  Crossing her legs. "The list is all the shit you've ever done to me, LeBeau. From Julien to that mess with Bandit."

 

"I helped there."

 

"And then you left."

 

He didn't have a smart ass answer to that.

 

"So you're going to talk him into letting me have my wedding, and you're going to leave one last time, and you're going to stay gone," she sighed. "Or at least put some effort into staying gone."

 

"Y'ever heard of email, Bella?"

 

"You don't have email."

 

"Might."

 

"You don't."

 

"Well, dat school does."

 

"That school has your slutty little skank girlfriend."

 

"She really ain't a slut."

 

"Then she's a tease. Honestly, you think the bitch'd never heard of paint-on latex." 

 

"Might tear," he shrugged. 

 

"So could a condom, that never stopped you." 

 

"Not like I left on purpose, d'first time."

 

"Oh, yes, because the one time in your life it would have been good to be a coward..."

 

"What dat supposed t'mean?"

 

"It means Julien was a hot headed little shit, and if you'd just avoided him, someone else could have slapped some sense into him.  _ Don't apologize or comment. _ " She heard his mouth snap shut.

 

"Y'coulda asked through d'guild?"

 

"I didn't want this to be public knowledge, alright? He puts up with enough baggage from me that's there because of you, telling him the damn priest thinks that if you came back I'd just fall into the role of your wife again? Break my vows to my new husband? That priest knows  _ exactly  _ what I do for a living, dammit, and he thinks I'm that  _ weak _ !" She was pissing herself off all over again, and they both knew it. 

 

She knew he knew it, cause he was trying to figure out, by the way he was wiggling, if the chair he was in had a seat or not, and if it did, how thick. 

 

"I'm not going to kick you in the balls," she said, then exhaled. "Probably." 

 

"Dank'ya, cherie," he said, exhaling. 

 

"Can I prop you up yet?"

 

"Dey was really persistent wid refillin m'glass, Bella," he said.

 

She had to admit, his slur was pretty bad.

 

"An everything hurt. Almost saved y' d'price o'paper, 'bout a week ago when mean liddle connais tried t'show Remy what color his insides be," he added, leaning his head back. "Member dat time, when wad his name, Jeremiah crashed hid bike and he hid dat window and d'wood opened him up like he was a catfish?" 

 

Bella did. She'd been ten at the time. Jeremiah'd been a well-known and well-liked poolshark. Paid dues to both guilds then hit an oil slick going too fast round a corner. She started to feel sympathetic, then glared and put her heel to his forehead. "And you seem so good now?"

 

"Dey tricky connaiss, dat white haired man's friends." 

 

He was probably telling the truth. He was a lot better at lying than this, certainly. He had to be to live this long. She pulled her foot away, eyed the faint impression in the middle of the unicorn-like welt. He didn't take this abuse from just anyone, she knew. Conscious or subconscious guilt meant even if he won the fight, she got a few good hard blows in. Masochist. 

 

It almost made you want to kick something. 

 

_ Oh. Look. Remy,  _ her leg seemed to say, starting to cock back. She stopped herself. It was like kicking a puppy, it really was. "Most men'd be ashamed to use acting pathetic as a defense."

 

"Y'deserve y'kicks."

 

Calf muscle twitch. She blamed it on the shoes, and gritted her teeth. "You could have started being considerate a hell of a lot sooner."

 

He didn't answer. 

 

*****************

 

Shikaku had to carry Kakashi back.

 

It was weirdly nostalgic, he hadn't had to carry a fellow shinobi home in years. 

 

Well, two years. Come to think of it, it'd been Kakashi last time, too. The man hadn't adapted well that first few weeks. He'd been lucky to land in the swamp, luckier that Shikaku'd found him them, and luckiest that he'd sobered up before Naruto'd shown up.

 

The blonde bastard had almost driven Kakashi back into the bottle just with his appearance.

 

Shikaku sighed. Let's see, before that... Before that the last shinobi he'd carried home hadn't woken up. He had a feeling he'd been carrying a dead man those last few miles, but no one told you that when you collapsed in the   middle of the mission room.

 

Kakashi wasn't quite unconscious, but he was close, and staggering enough it'd be dangerous to let him walk. Most of the danger was for any Good Samaritan that might startle the man into attacking, true, but since Shikaku was technically an assassin now, it was bad form to kill someone without getting paid for it, or let someone else do it for you.  

 

If only the man would stop giggling. It was better than crying, sure, but it was just so wrong. Like Kakashi's six year old self had gone into a coma and could only be woken up with serious dousing of booze.

 

He turned off the main street, walked until there were alleys again (it took half an hour, space was too valuable to waste between buildings in the French Quarter), and then took a few, hops to get to the guild.

 

Let's see... There were rooms empty. People out on jobs, some were just kept empty for parties...

 

Shikaku found one that wasn't blatantly a cell that had once been used for kidnappings. It still had bars on the windows,  but it was otherwise nicely furnished now if somewhat dusty. He set Kakashi on the bed, eyed him, and gave the man a gentle poke in the forehead that sent him backwards.

 

"Think you can behave yourself?" he asked, dryly.

 

"Tell the waiter I'd like another inna minute, thanks," Kakashi said, raising an arm. 

 

"I think three was enough."

 

"Four's  _ better _ ."

 

"You had them make that last one with Drambuie."

 

"Tha last one was good, nother like that, that'd be... Nice..."

 

Shikaku pulled up a chair and waited. Waited till Kakashi stopped talking, waited till the soft snores started, till the restlessness left his limbs.

 

Then he gently prodded Kakashi onto his side, unhooked the mask from one ear so it wouldn't choke him in vomit, and left.

  
  


 Humming. Curiously relaxed for man whose fiancée was currently hunting for (or possibly beating on) the love of her life. He was neutrally aware that was the sort of thing that was not actually something you really got over. Bella was all passion, after all, just forgetting about her former lover and husband wasn't an option. Killing him was. Fucking him senseless was.

  
  


 Well, alright if that last one happened he would be annoyed at one of them. But he trusted her. Besides, he was pretty damn plowed, no two ways about it, and wasn't up for more than maybe a glass of water and a light nap till she came back.    

  
  


******

 

In some more fanciful universes, when Remy sauntered back much later with Bella looking like a kicked and beaten, broken man, holding a bottle with a straw in it, sex would have happened when he got told to take whatever room he wanted. He would have picked the one with Kakashi in it, and with his defenses lowered and his inhibitions drowned, sex would have happened.

 

It so happens that he did open the door to Kakashi's current resting place. 

 

And curiosity drew him closer. Okay, he'd been prodding for weaknesses when he'd asked about the mask, but at the same time...

 

He started to reach out, had a nice, visceral memory of shaking awake a grouchy, drunken Logan and getting popped in the nose coupled with a pain in his gut, and took a slow, soused look around the room. "Needa pokey stick f'da, pokey tings," he said, half to himself wandering to the bathroom. Had to be something long and...

 

He put his head to the wall. Oh, yeah, duh. Staff. Long. Pokey. And he still had it. Right?

 

He patted himself down, a bit awkwardly with his bottle hand. Found it. Yeah, Kakashi'd given him back his coat, his shoes and his stick. Plus a shirt. He didn't have socks or underwear, but he had his pokey stick. Life looked up a little. 

 

Even when he was drunk enough to need both feet on the ground, he still flipped the mask off without touching the man's face.

 

He leaned on the canopy's column. 

 

It had been for fancy kidnap victims, right? He reached up and batted at a heavy, slightly dusty tassel. 

 

Then returned his attention to the newly exposed face. 

 

Remy stifled a snicker, had another sip of bourbon. "Y'droolin, connais," he told the man, who didn't move. He shifted his stick, poked him in the shoulder. "Y'droolin y'hear y'dumb-"

 

Two things happened. One, Kakashi's hand grabbed the stick, held it still. Two...

 

There was no two. The stick was grabbed, that was all. Remy pushed on it, and Kakashi's body rocked a little.

 

Huh. 

 

Another prod. The hand was white knuckled. Tight grip. Arm was tense, and if Remy'd been dumb enough to touch it he was betting he'd feel steely, if ropey, muscles. 

 

He looked back at the face. Wasn't a bad face. There was some drool. Interesting scar, but certainly not unique. No stubble, but if he wore a mask all the time maybe he'd gotten that skin zapped. Younger than you'd think, but Remy'd thought that last time, too, hadn't he?

 

The scarred eye was tearing up. There was a wet spot on the pillow about half as big as the drool puddle. Maybe the scar irritated? Remy had to yank to get his stick back.

 

"Y'a weird  _ connais-tu _ . Y' hear me?" He sat down in the heavy chair. Had to be heavy or dumb little prisoners tried to swing it as a weapon. "Y'just weird." Drooling, sleeping, still wound type. "N'wonder y' obsessed wid sex, y' need t'get laid. Loosen up." He said, head back against the cushion, relaxing slowly. He should get up and find a different room, but it was easier to just sit and maybe adjust his pants. "Pervert coulda found me drawers," he grumbled, half to himself. The staff went across the arms of the chair, gave him a place to rest his arms in front of himself. "Left me wid d'damn collar and m'Bella. Bella. S'omeone's Bella, while y' got y'self toasty gonna kick y'ass f'da n'matter how cute y'try t'look in y'drool puddle there y' damn,"

 

He went on, grumbling like the unsteady purr of an engine until it shifted almost seamlessly into snoring. 

  
  


*******

 

 Some people, upon waking up as hung over as Kakashi would have groaned, been sick, then attemped to locate whatever article of underwear or clothes they'd managed to lose the night before. 

 

Not Kakashi. Kakashi sat up with a jerk, hands going to his face until his belly overuled his nerotic tendancies and he was puking violently into the side table drawer. It had been a nice side table. Kakashi couldn't have told a French antique from early American Colonial if his life had depended at It but he knew good construction and fine grained wood at a glance. It was. Had been. A nice peice of craftsmanship. He looked at the bile that was thankfully free of ice cream, and silently apologized to the gods of the dovetail joint. 

 

His Finely-Honed-Ninja-Senses told him there was another person in the room, and he had no mask. It was a deep drawer, he kept his head low in it and reached out. Felt for the pillowcase while letting his nose sort out the intruding presence.

 

Hard to get much over the bile smell but the rest was leather and bourbon and dust and sweat. His shoulders relaxed. Remy. That was fine. He could be there. Kakashi's fingers got the cotton. Now to tear of it, where had his mask gone?  _ Dammit _ . 

 

 "D'hell y'doing?" 

 

 Kakashi ignored him. Tricky since the man's voice was loud and almost bright In his ears.

 

 "What y'need a pillow for?" Funny, this was the least attractive he'd ever considered Remy; he was reminding Kakashi of Sakura right now. Inquisitve asshole. "Y'right, but day okay, y a bastard I can be an asshole id make it easier t'deal wid you," Remy said cheerfully. 

 

 Kakashi got the thing to start to tear.

 

 "Y wan me d hand y'your mask? Y could try to ask nice. Mabbe." 

 

... Kakashi thought, groaning. "Please?" 

 

 "Tell me why y'wear it an I will." 

 

 "I'm fashion consious," Kakashi said. No mask was handed over so he looked up, finally. 

 

"How was Bella?" he asked instead, cruelly. Silence, then, 

 

"She be beautiful," then, "How you know?"

 

Kakashi would have felt guilty if the feeling of sick would have given it some room. "Ah, well, some of those drinks you had last night were to congratulate the groom to be." 

 

It took a moment, and proved to Kakashi how hung over Remy himself must be, that the man took a moment before having to tenatively ask, "Y'mean dat buddy O yours, right?" 

 

 "Yep. Shikaku. Must mean he'd been here more than two years then," Kakashi said giving up, putting his hands together. 

 

 It was supposed to be a detox sort of move against food posionings, and other low level toxins. It only half helped, generally and it hurt like a punch to the nads, if his nads had been in the middle of his brain. He became aware, after a moment, of Remy's hand on his shoulder. 

 

Oh, yeah. He'd even scared Raidou with this one once, right? It made you puke up one maybe two red black heaves with a weak and whimpery sound? Raidou (and gods was Kakashi glad that he'd not of thought of the man last night, he'd have bawled like a baby) had thought he was dying. He still felt sick, but at least he didn't think he was going to shit himself. "it's fine," he panted, waved his hand. "Sort of a trick, sounds half as bad as it feels and lasts half that too. Mask?"

 

 "Don't know where id went," Remy sounded smug. "Tossed it kinda far," 

 

 Kakshi did NOT glare, or growl. Instead he made himself sound cheerful, and hopeful. "During hot sex?" 

 

 At least he got the pillow case torn while Remy snapped out some sort of retort. Gave up and went to his heels to tie it off. At least until he got another mask, this stupid thing would do. 

 

"Was she the one?" he asked, eying the drawer then shutting it with his knee and a sigh. Silence, long enough that Kakashi glanced over. Remy didn't look mad just... Searching. 

 

 "I had a 'one', once," he offered. 

 

 "She, used t'be," Remy said finally. 

 

 "Those are the worse, or so I've been told," Kakashi said. "We'll be out of here by nightfall." 

 

 "Hold it. If y'got a 'one' why'chasing me?" 

 

"It's been two years. He's dead. Probably." 

 

 "Y'don know?" 

 

 "The universe. Blew. Up," Kakashi said blandly. Then, "It's not as if I didn't look. But there's a..." hell with it. "We all, left that universe at once but, ah, it seems like everyone's arriving at different times. I've been here two and a half years, Shikaku's been here three, Naruto's been here over ten. See?" 

 

 "So he might still get here?" 

 

 Kakahi nodded, shrugged, looked down. "I don't expect understanding. You're interesting," he'd have liked you, "And attractive. So I chase. "

 

"Y'got t'be d'worse attempt ad a Casanova da I ever met," Remy said. "Y'make m'sound like df'rabbit at d'dog races." 

 

*********

 

Bella had stayed woefully sober the whole night. 

 

Mostly, Shikaku knew, because a few stiff drinks would relaxed the self control that was keeping her from marching up to that room and beating her ex-husband's head in.

 

She's also stayed up the whole night, stalking and growling until Shikaku'd pushed some badly dubbed mid eighties Hong Kong action flick into the old vhs player and dragged her onto the couch, undoing all the tight braids and rubbing at her scalp while she kicked her boots off. 

 

It was still shorter on top, the girl version of a mullet but she was compensating for that while it grew out by braiding it all tight to her head. He rather liked it, it made a lot more sense and was never, ever in her eyes anymore when she worked or fought. It was in her eyes now, though. 

 

She was asleep now, half on him, half on the couch, legs stretched out and arms tangled with the throw blanket.  She looked relaxed now. Must have gotten things sorted with that annoying priest. Good. He wanted to be married, for a variety of reasons. One, he was good at it. Two, if his currently presumed deceased wife showed up and he wasn't married it'd be a mess. She'd respect marriage vows.

 

Privately he thought that if he met her again, she'd have some gorgeous barely legal male stripper on her arm and a drink in her other hand. Maybe that was hopefulness. He did hope she was happy, anyway.

 

Bella's eye opened, then shut. "I refuse."

 

"To wake up?"

 

She nodded. 

 

"Alright then," he agreed, brushing her hair back with his fingertips and starting to re-braid it. It was getting easier the longer it got, and practice made perfect. He didn't ask how it'd gone, because he wasn't supposed to know and he didn't mind that sort of secret. "Father McBreenden called. Sunday after next is open. Apparently they fixed the problem with that... Mold, was it?"

 

"Yes. Mold," she said, shifting a little. "Gone now, so we can proceed."

 

He didn't ask about anything else. She had a dress, he had a suit. Her money and clout combined with his way of asking... politely generally took care of the rest. Wasn't like it was going to be a huge affair, anyway.

 

Well, it would be, but it wasn't a joining of guilds this time. It was just a big wedding. The boss woman was getting hitched, there would be an open bar, and the town instinctivley was good at parties. Shikaku grinned. Maybe she'd put the invitations in that desk drawer.

 

She sat up, eventually so he could finish. It was relaxing, and seemed to work more or less like coffee for her because she was awake now. "I really hope he just buggered off."

 

Shikaku thought about that. "I doubt it, Kakashi'd at least say goodbye and I don't think he'd let Remy leave without him," he said, finally, then added, "He's a bit like mold, that way." The tension in her spine was fleeting, and he ignored it. Bent his head to kiss the nape of her neck. "Let's go face the day." Well, face the noon. 

 

Possibly early evening. It didn't matter he'd had a regular sleep schedule more or less beaten out of him at a young age. 

In this case, facing the day, or noon, or evening, consisted mostly of normal everyday things. Or as everyday as you got. The Thieves Guild took more paperwork to manage, simply because well...

 

They had a small army of pick pockets, a few in every major city with enough bustle. Thieves made money in small doses, all the time. They worked a few hours a day, took a respectable number of wallets, hit a quota and went home. Some stole cars, but, again, quota, and generally stereos were better. Bigger crimes went to more senior members, they had a small cyber-theft division that was getting quite good at bank fraud (not traditional, but you had to keep up) that traveled the world.

 

They had an army.

 

The Asassians, on the other hand... They had fewer members, but they brought in the same amount of cash. One well trained man, (and they were all well trained, far fewer tiers in their hierarchy) could be expected to do somewhere between five and ten jobs a year. Each job had to be planned carefully, even the small ones. The lowest one could expect to pay for their services was about twenty-five grand, and that was up front. Afterwards, the client would be presented with a bill for expenses.

 

They were very GOOD about expenses now. Shikaku'd seen to that. He'd found an expense list that had included a two hundred dollar drink tab and explained to that man in excruciating detail that if thieves couldn't snort the drugs they lifted, then assassins had to keep their vices on their own dime, thank you. Now the expense sheets still included a few restaurant receipts, but it was much less, greedy. 

 

The point was that the ever churning thieves brought in a steady income week to week, and the assasins paid up quarterly now. Shikaku was starting to cross-train a few of the more, promising little bastards but it was still slow going at times. He would have loved a assistant or secretary, but by the time someone got deep enough into either guild to be trust worthy they were more profitable out there plying their craft, so to speak.

 

He was starting to hope for an injury. If one of the assasains blew out, say, their back, or a knee then a desk job would be cushy, right?

 

... Kakashi was going to be here another day, bastard owed him a few... Maybe he could have the man  _ arrange  _ it... He'd check the files and find a candidate for a badly broken knee. Someone smart but slightly clumsy would be perfect. An assassin, not a thief though. Assassins  were 'above' embezzlement. Shikaku smiled. "Bella, who was that guy who nearly botched snuffing out that stoolie last month? The one you tried to throw a vase at?"

 

She looked up. Not at him, more, into the middle distance as the filing system in her head went chug-chug-bing! "Dylan.... Dylan Ant, with the white spots."

 

"He's got vitiligo, that's the one," Shikaku nodded. "He's bright, right? But not someone with a lot of potential?"

 

"No, he's never getting anything high profile. He's a bit too memorable."

 

"Is he in town?" He asked, knowing she'd know. She kept close track of her assassins. 

 

"He can be. Certainly not on a job."

 

"I'll do that, then," Shikaku said, shutting a file with satisfaction. 

 

*******************

  
  


A day and a half later and Kakashi was feeling, properly sober again, upright, and after a quick knee breaking he was ready to go again.

 

He made it look nice and accidental, showing a few of the assassins that were just there how to fall down stairs really well, then, well, using a jutsu to make it look like there were a few missing steps for Dylan. 

 

"You do realize," Shikaku said, "That he buggered off yesterday."

 

Kakashi nodded. "Yeah, but does he know I sharpied a tracker onto him yet?"

 

"Where'd you put it?"

 

"Fine point sharpie, put it right behind his left ear."

 

"Good place." 

 

"I am a genius," Kakashi said, reasonably. 

 

"And Naruto called. He said he's annoyed, but go ahead. It's a long shot but it's worth looking into if you're going to be like this."

 

"Long shot?"

 

"His exact words were 'it's a million to one chance'."

 

Kakashi nodded, lips curving into a smile. "But it might just work?"

 

"To the letter," Shikaku said nodded. 

 

Kakahsi shouldered his pack. He felt. Good. Like the air was singing around him, maybe. Well rested, clear headed. Seeing Shikaku helped, it always did. The man was as soild as...

 

Well, not a rock. He was too lazy to be that solid but he was dependable as the ocean. Kakashi liked that.

 

Now, he had a thief to chase.  

 

******

 

Elsewhere,t he sky was dull red. It throbbed, pulsed slowly with the moon hanging in it like an over ripe plum.

 

Kabuto stared at it,  lips moving as he carefully mentally recited a slow litany. The gash on his thumb hadn't quite healed. He pressed the reopened wound too smooth marble, felt it drink that part of himself down before it split.

 

A cemetery was an obnoxious place to have a lair, overly dramatic. Considering that it was Kabuto saying this, and considering who Kabuto took his orders from, this was a bit of a surprising statement but, and Kabuto shut the door rather emphatically behind himself, there was a damn limit.

 

He kicked a skull down the stairs in front of him with about as much aggression as he ever allowed himself, and walked down into the cool, packed soil. 

 

The blue gem hummed in his hand.

 

"You acquired it?"

 

"I met an old friend," Kabuto said, setting the navigation device carefully into it's setting. Using an old clock for this part hadn't been as offensive to Kabuto's sensibilities, mostly because the large gears made it much easier to adjust. Also, it was properly lit down here, he'd insisted on that, dragged what had felt like miles of cables to get that humming pulsing electricity down here.

 

Oh, he loved the electricity. It wasn't so, rare here. It was everywhere, they used it for everything, as if it was just a complicated form of sunlight. And the science! Kabuto had spent many, many nights since he'd gotten to this wonderful world up late, reading page after glorious page of medical texts, research papers. Stroking the spines of encyclopedia's like treasured tomes of erotica. Sometimes they were nearly the same thing to Kabuto, after all.

 

Clicks and clunks started. 

 

"How long?"

 

"A week. Maybe two," Kabuto said. "Three at the outside. But now all there is to do is... Wait," he shrugged.

 

"Hnnph."

 

"Three at the outside," Kabuto repeated, calmly.

 

"More than four we scrap it all and redesign from scratch."

 

"As you wish." 

  
  


*****

 

It had gone into the realm of the absurd, but Remy didn't give a good god damn at this point. He'd spent a week trying to shake that white hair bastard (Including jumping into coldfuckingcold water and letting the current drag him rather far), only to be woken up at three in the afternoon.

 

Three in the afternoon was, as all sensible people knew, the best time to be really, truly, deeply asleep. 

 

But the bastard had brought him a sandwich, and a beer, and some part of Remy's soul that was still damp and shivering gave up, rolled over, and decided to focus on hunting down the man who'd gutted him. Kakashi could be dealt with later. After the sandwich, at least.

 

It was a good damn sandwich too. Amazingly good, thick bacon and tomatoes that had actual flavor to them on heavy bread with cheese. 

 

"I ask how y' found me, I gonna get d'truth?"

 

"Chakra. And poor personal grooming habits. Didn't your mother ever tell you to wash behind your ears?" Kakashi grinned. At least, his one visable eye crinkled at the edges, so Remy assumed he was smiling. Or smirking. 

 

He resisted the urge to reach up behind his ear, feel for the tracker. Under the skin, had to be, stupid of him, he'd been asleep there... "Ged id out." He said, finally.

 

"Get what out?"

 

"D'tracka. You ged it out, y'hear?" His hands were gripping the beer bottle too tight now.

 

Kakashi leaned back a little.  "You think we put something in you?" 

 

Remy's hand twitched, and he gave in, reaching up to rub. Press. Feel. Lump, scar, flash of pain, anything. "Y'just said y'did!" Nothing there, he started on the next ear.

 

"I drew a symbol on you with ink and energy. You didn't scrub hard enough to wash it off. I don't think you usually reek this much but it makes it easier for the dogs to track you, so who am I to complain," Kakashi said, tone so mild that it was making Remy's blood boil, making the skin of his fingers itch. "Shower, it'll come off," a pause, a meaningful look around. "Well, get a decent hotel room, then shower." 

 

Every single instinct Remy had was telling him that getting into a fight right now was not the best idea. Pride and rage were getting twisted up around instinct, though, changing it's mind. 

 

"I think," Kakashi said, "You are making the salt in your bread turn pink. If you are not going to eat it, I have a lot of dogs," he shook his head, leaned back. Relaxed. Confidant. "It's magic. Remember? Just tell yourself that it's magic." He held up his fingers and wiggled them. "WoooooooOOOooo. Magic. Or religion."

 

Remy pulled his fingers away and saw...

 

Ink. Not a lot. just a bit of a smudge on his finger tips. A muttered curse, a toss of the sandwich to the ground and he was up, inspecting himself in the dirty, cracked mirror.

 

It was TINY, and with some soap, it was gone. "Fucking magic users," he growled, stalking back out, scooping up the now slightly dusty food. Dust could get washed down with beer, it was fine.

 

"Have you found him yet?"

 

"You don' already know?" Remy was in a sour mood, and he didn't care. He hoped, actually, that his damn charm was spreading it around with a big shovel. It would be nice to see Kakashi squirm.

 

"I know a little, I know you have leads. I know there's a reason we're somewhere in Hong Kong, in a condemned hotel," Kakashi said. "I'm here because I think you're close enough that it'd be... Good for your health if I don't have to cover a quarter mile to get to you."

 

Remy started to snap but...

 

Silver blade and moon round glasses. 

 

"Dat man reconized you," Remy said. "Das why he attacked me."

 

"No, that's why he attacked you like that. It's not as if he knew that I'd care. If he'd realized that..." Kakashi paused, considered the grammar. "If he had known that you were the sort of person I would stop to patch up, you would have either been a hostage, or, perhaps, it would have been a slower, more severe wound. Pulled your intestines out and tossed dirt on them. Something that would have taken more time." 

 

Remy tried very, very hard not to think about that. "Ain't givin' him th' opportunity twice." 

 

"That's exactly what everyone involved is thinking," Kakashi said, and Remy heard a trace of darkness in that, looked up.

 

Same impassive face. Well, same impassive wedge of face. Same feeling to the room.

 

Remy sighed. It'd been a long time since he had to attempt to judge the emotions of others purely on tone of voice and body language. Usually emotions were easy, dammit. "An t' other's, dey same as you?"

 

"Hnn?"

 

"Their aura's, or whatever. You feel like you got cotton for a soul, see?" Remy leaned his head back. "Like you's jus' a shell, mebbeh an android."

 

"Self control," Kakashi said, with a shrug.

 

"Naw, dat feel more like steel," Remy said. "Dere's a differn' feel ta dat, people who strap what and who dey are down tight, till da pressure turns 'em inta diamonds. You feel like," waiting on a train, doing the crossword, or the sudoku now, wasn't it? Without really being worried about finishing it. "Like someone you meet onna train, but don' talk ta, and dey be waitin' for da coffee ta kick in." 

 

Kakashi went still for a moment, then went back to lazed. It was like a flicker in the video. Just a moment.  "That's fascinating."

 

"You gonna tell me it's magic? That ain't magic, magic don't change how people feel. Usually. Unless you're being controlled like a puppet, mebbeh, that might make sense. If you was jus' some poor bastard in a coma getting remote controlled." 

 

Kakashi snorted. "Cute theory, but. No."

 

"Non?"

 

"Do you know what you feel like?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"You feel like a hand. On the back of my neck," Kakashi gestured, fingers stretching out, then relaxing. Dropping onto his own knee. "Like that. It's very faint. I told you I once worked with a man who could control you with your own hormones, didn't I? I know I told you that. He could brush your hair behind your ear and make you fall in love. At least on the chemical level.  Which is really the only level." 

 

Remy patted himself down until he found himself a cigarette. Bobbed his head in a 'go ahead' fashion and lit the thing with a fingertip. For a moment he thought that had been it, but Kakashi started up again. 

 

"I used to have a friend that smoked," Kakashi said.

 

"You sayin' it's gonna kill me like it killed him?"

 

"That wasn't what killed him," Kakashi shut his eye. "I can feel that you're... Trying something. All the time. Will you tell me what it is?"

 

Remy considered it. "If I don't?"

 

"Then you don't."

 

"It's a sort of thing," Remy said finally. "Like empathy. Only two ways." 

 

Kakashi nodded. "That's what the file said."

 

"Why are you asking if you got a damn file?"

 

"Because it's inconclusive."

 

"I call it Charm," Remy said. 

 

"So you don't really know people, do you?"

 

"What da hell you talkin' about? 'Course I know people. I got d charm, I know what dey feelin, I know people."

 

"You know the people you meet, who you've read with your empathy trick," kakashi corrected. "I know  _ people. _ " 

 

"I keep listenin' t'ya talk, hopin dat some point y'gonna make a bit oh damn sense but id ain't been happin yet." 

 

"I think you're a masochist."

 

"I think this conversation took a turn somewhere," Remy said, blinking. 

 

"That's part of my conclusion. You pick lovers that will hurt you. And if they don't, you hurt them until they're motivated," Kakashi was smiling now, Remy just knew it, but it wasn't registering. 

 

"We was talkin about how y'feel!" Remy squawked . 

 

"I know. I feel that we should have dinner together, followed by sex," Kakashi said, voice a cheerful bubbly one again.

 

If Remy had been anything other than flabbergasted, he might have wondered about that. 

 

"I realize that you're caught in an unhealthy cycle, but I'm willing to work with you to pull it out of it," Kakashi went on, getting to his feet and dusting himself off a little. 

 

"Dat don't have a ting t'do wid-" Remy started, then stopped. No damn bacon sandwich was worth this. "Dey say d'power grid got some leaks to is, over t'da east of here. Like maybe some's stealing d'juice. Was gonna go see iffn maybe y'buddy wid d'glasses w'there. All d'people i talked to say dat he into the tech."

 

"He would be," Kakashi murmured, shifting back to something Remy was slightly less afraid of. Like, sane. " he crossed his arms. "Well, let's go look."

 

"Yeah, leds."

 

"But you need to clean up first," Kakashi said.

 

Remy watched his hands come up, together. Heard a few mumbled words, coming out in a rush...

 

And felt like someone had grabbed him, held him under water (warm, soapy water) and shook him rapidly before setting him back on the ground. It was purely in his head, he knew it. It had to be. Everytihng else was dry. he was dry.

 

Then he moved a little, to yell, and stopped.

 

His hair was. Fluffy. Stupidly fluffy, really. Felt, dry and oil free, clean. And as fluffy as if it'd been blowdried. He reached up to touch it, and noticed the lack of dirt under his nails. "D'hell?!" he wailed, finally, looking at his now, apparently dry cleaned coat. "What d'hell sorta magick id dat, d' instant day spa?! And why m'drawers up m'ass!?"

 

"Well it's a side effect of-"

 

"And who d'hell's drawers are dey i weren't wearin none!?" Remy bellowed. "He d'hell did y'get," and now he was fumbling with his belt, trying to see, "He d'hell did you get silk boxer on under m'pants?"

 

"Ahh, that was a trick my teacher's teacher taught me," Kakashi said cheerfully. "There, now you look decent. Well, decent for a high class gigolo. Need a hair tie?"

 

"Dis ain't d'way I supposed d'look!"

 

"Are you really going to take those off right now? I should have over dressed you sooner."

 

Remy stopped in the act, suddenly more self aware than he'd been since...

 

Since...

 

His brain suddenly had a hard time coming up with any situation where he'd be upset by the fact most of his pubic hair and a inch of cock was exposed. Well, okay there was that time that the husband had come home early. Several times like that. And it hadn't been clothes hiding the rest of his dick on those occasions, usually it'd been the wife. Or daughter. Or that time both.

 

He blinked, and realized that Kakashi was taking advantage of his opportunity to lean in and inspect the goods.

 

***********

 

"You realize," Kakashi said, standing at the edge of the graveyard and watching the shadows dancing. "That if you had not, in fact, blown up the damn room, and the building the room was in, that the man we're chasing wouldn't have known to kill the power to half the city and summon up... How did you put it?"

 

"D' fucking cannard snakey ting wid d'wings."

 

"Yes. Those. I want the record to show that I think this is all your damn fault," Kakashi said.

 

Remy looked like he wanted to snap something in half then beat someone to death with it. That someone was Probably Kakashi. Kakashi didn't care at the moment. 

 

"The record duly notes it," said Naruto, leaning on the wall and being amused by this display from the guy Kakashi had claimed 'was into me. No. Really'. He wished he'd had his own smokes, but in this case a pack of Camels would do the trick. 

 

Kakashi eyed it, didn't comment. "How much back up?"

 

Naruto clucked his tongue, gave Remy a sideways look, and shrugged. "Only got ten that can take getting jumped this far the fast way," he said. "But they're the tough ten, so, you  know. Bonus."

 

"Any of them chakra trained?"

 

"Every last one, but this stupid, gotta be eighteen rules," Naruto sighed. "Usually I'm all for it, but, hell, chakra training's healthy! And once the fuckers hit pubery it's all an uphill fight... Luckily the mutants are a bit malleable so..." 

 

Remy's shoulders hunched. "Yeah, we a malleable bunch, alright," he growled. Staring at the ground.

 

"Oh, don't even. We only take volunteers, the ones already enlisting, usually the ones without families, and never the ones that are joining up to escape jail time. Well. Almost never." 

 

Kakashi sighed. "It's a job for life, we pay well, and while I'm sure you two could have a lively debate on the matter, can we please go kill Kabuto now?"

 

"I tink dat id worth sayin I wouldnadn't done blown up dat room if someone haddn'ta slapped drawers on me," Remy grumbled. 

 

Naruto nodded, tapped a button on his belt. 

 

The air behind them crackled, a faint static feeling that put the hairs on Naruto's arms on end.

 

Calling them 'tough' looked like it might have been an understatement. The one at the front, bare armed, grinning from a mouth that was far too wide, saluted. "Sir!" 

 

"At ease," Naruto said. 

 

"Dat one look like he be mabbe nineteen," Remy muttered.

 

"Okay, so we recruit a few out of ROTC in middleschool," Naruto added, giving Remy a smart assed sort of grin.

 

"Sir?"

 

"Who else is on the way?"

 

"The Avengers have been scrambled, sir but you know what happened the last time we pushed them through the  telaportation matrix," said the Sargent. 

 

Naruto managed not to wince. It'd taken six hours for Captain America to stop puking, and poor Black Widow... Then FURY had been pissed off on top of that. 

 

"We really gotta push that higher up out list of priorities," Naruto muttered. "Okay team! We go in, we kill anything that moves. We're dealing with shape shifters, so standard precautions apply. If you're not sure, shoot to kill, Tsunade's on her way if friendly fire happens, drop, self stabilize, and pray. This is Remy LeBeau, keep him in sight, if you loose track of him, same thing. Shoot to kill." 

 

"Hey now," Remy said, looking alarmed. 

 

"You can stay out here," Kakashi said, soothingly, petting his arm. "Sargent Delta there can stay with you." 

 

Remy jerked away from his touch. "No, he can go on in der and add t'da blood bath. Y'go nna get y'self killed, cannard, id ain't like y'bullet proof," he hesitated. "Is ya?"

 

Kakashi shook his head. "Nope, just hard as hell to hit. Everyone ready?"

 

At ease became attention. 

 

"Kiss for luck?" Kakashi said, with a leer in his voice.

 

Remy gave him a foul glare, that shifted suddenly to an evil smile. "Take d'mask off, I tink aboud id," 

 

Naruto's head turned, but he tried not too. In fact, he tried not to stare. Kakashi? Mask off? Willingly? Seriously?

 

Oh, he knew what was under it. Kakashi'd gotten hurt, Naruto'd had to pull it off to give the man CPR. It was just Kakashi's face, underneath the mask.

 

"What?" Kakashi said, trying to sound as if he had merely misheard.

 

But he'd never seen the man take it off willingly. Not even to eat. Naruto still didn't know how the bastard ever ATE.

 

And he was touchy when people tried to force the issue. Iron Man'd tried once as a joke and Tsunade had been forced to get a welding torch to cut the armor off Tony's wrist.

 

"You heard me. D'mask. Take. Id. Off," Remy was repeating himself.

 

And now the thief was stalking towards Kakashi, looking smug, and Kakashi was just. Rigid.

 

With fear. Naruto could smell it. Not battle fear, this was the deep rooted fear of a child cornered by wolves. 

 

This was not the sort of fear that Naruto needed to deal with right now. Damn. All kinds of fascinating maybe but right now. "Move out!" He boomed, instead. Did. Not. Want. To. Deal.

 

Kakashi's hand went up, to his arm. Shoved the sleeve back and pulled a long, sharp, naked blade from the second tattoo on his arm. "I've got point," even as he twisted, turned, went over the edge, all grace and speed.

 

Naruto was a little envious. The old man (and he'd always be the old man, to Naruto, always be a teacher, in a way even if he was also sometimes Kakashi or Hatake) still moved like like he was made of out moonlight made solid. The toughs followed, except for Sargent Delta, who gave Gambit and Naruto a salute in the age old soldier tradition of a smart salute never, ever being the wrong response. 

  
  


********

 

Gambit stood on the roof, and watched. Gambit was the right name, right now, because he was shuffling his cards rapidly and felt like his fingers were on fire.

 

Anyway, it was the name on the file that Sargent Delta had access too. He readjusted his grip on the heavily modified gun in his arms. watching the cards and listening to the radio, rather hoping for the signal to move in. The black things were more or less gone, now.

 

"Dey seem like dey more o you down dere dan d'were up here," Gambit said, watching closely.

 

"Clones. Standard tactic to overwhelm and confuse the enemy," Delta said, sharply. 

 

"I gonna assume dat y'mean sumptin diffren den clones grown in vats."

 

"Yes sir."

 

"Y'care d laborate, der, homme?"

"Clones are artificial temporary constructs built by channeling and shaping the natural enery that lies in every living thing, sir. Top secret technique."

"And y'just telling me that?"

"It's a bit like saying you can make a nuke by spliting an atom, sir. "

 

There was a crackling noise.

"Ya, dat's," Gambit turned, starting that graveyard.

Except it wasn't really a grave yard anymore. It was a parking lot.

Not a flatted bit of earth, an actual parking lot. It flicked between headstones and and sedan's, shaggy tall weeds and yellow flickering lights.

 

"D'hell id goin," Gambit said, suddenly feeling the urge to run but not sure where 'away' would be, technically.

 

"I think, hell might be the right term, sir," Delta said, sounding, slightly uneasy.

The air around them SCREAMED.

***********

The bastard, the bastrad, that was the closest that Kakashi could come to a real thought, everything else was instinct, trained and honed and he was going to GUT that white hair bastard-

And for a moment the universe hummed slightly, because when the world was tearing like this and two people had the exact same thought, that happened, because Kabuto was bearing down HARD but dammit Kakashi was STILL faster, still faster-

Had to be faster. That was the only, way, after all even with his borrowed (not stolen) eye burning in his skull like a hot coal.

Then the ground gave way.

Well,t he ground gave way, then was dust, fine and silty and blowing UP because soemthing deep and red was under them now, dragging at his skin, Kabuto's skin, judging by the fine lines forming and starting to bleed and that was a shit way to go, ha, served him right-  _ Hope it's not doing the same to me, _ but he could already feel it starting on him and..

 

It would have been better, he thought, watching the bullet in it's trajectory, eye slowing it enough to watch, but even his reflexes...

It would have been a more impressive gesture, all things considered if the eye-hurting magenta bullet ( _ how did he charge a bullet in the gun without blowing up the gun? ask later. Take notes _ ) hadn't gone through his HAND.

Granted, his reflexes ment that it went between bones,

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> NOW ONTO THE CONCLUSION. Which I will post. Soon. Remember the old school days of ff.net when authors would hold a chapter hostage until they got enough reviews?
> 
> I'm not doing that I'm just nostalgic.


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